


Medic!

by orayang



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, kind of a slice of life in the Wastes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:12:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayang/pseuds/orayang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doc was appalled to see that Goodneighbor didn't have a doctor in town. So she became the doctor herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome

           As she stitched a drifter’s forearm back together and side-eyed the growing line of people looking for her services, the Lone Wanderer – now simply dubbed Doctor – realized that she might be the _only_ doctor in town. Usually this wasn’t such a big issue. Either way, injuries kept the caps flowing. But this kind of line was concerning considering the size of Goodneighbor.

           The Doctor had expected to pass out a couple of stimpacks, help a couple of the poor saps who couldn’t find shelter, collected a small sum of caps, and go on her merry way in a matter of hours. The town seemed to have other ideas. It wasn’t like she could turn a patient away. Well, she _could_ she supposed but it didn’t sit right with her vault dweller sensibilities. The apocalypse could only influence so much of her personality.

           Taking a secondary glance back at the line, she was pretty sure she might have to book a room at Hotel Rexford depending on the severity of some of the symptoms she could make out. Most of them were drifters but she could spot one or two of the guards with some old festering injuries that should have been tended to days ago. 

           She vaguely wondered if she should march up into the Old State House and give the shitty mayor a piece of her mind. Unfortunately, from what she heard on the street, said shitty mayor went out journeying with the next hero of the great nuclear country. Figures. It wasn’t like she ever brought anyone with that kind of status traveling with her. 

           The Doctor fought the urge to rub her nose. There was a lot of blood splattered on her gloves already and putting that near her eyes would have made her instincts scream.

           As she neatly sewed the last stitch in, she gave a curt nod to her patient to let him know that he would be ready to go. Caps were deposited into her hands with a clatter as he rose off the bench she was working on. The next person promptly deposited themselves on the bench just as the previous patient left. 

           She couldn’t help the sigh that left her lips. She adjusted her glasses with her arm, preventing her gloved fingers from touching anything on her face. 

           “What do you need? Tell me your symptoms.” 

           Unfazed by neither her terrible bedside manner nor her irritated sign, the Neighborhood Watcher shamelessly rattled off his symptoms.

           “Well doll, a couple of days ago rented out a room at the hotel with a dame and now things don’t feel all right… down there if ya’ catch mah’ drift.”

           Oh yes, Doc thought to herself. She really was going to have to have a chat with the mayor. She only hoped that he would finish his little errand before she decided to pick up and leave. She’d only stay for a week. After all, stitches were pulled at the end of the week, she was leaving.

•••

           Three weeks. She’d been settled in Goodneighbor for _three fucking_ _weeks_.

            As she sanitized her hands for the day, she wondered how the hell she ended up staying for nearly an entire month. People were starting to call her Doc. She had a goddamn _reputation_. This hadn’t happened since her time in the Capital Wasteland! Hotel Rexford is beginning to be known for Buddy _and_ her patchwork. Doctor Amari had personally come by to thank her since now she didn’t have to deal with people constantly asking her for medical services when she simply wasn’t that kind of doctor. When she passed Daisy by, the nice ghoul told her that she wouldn’t mind setting up a supply line of meds for her for real cheap.

            KL-E-0 piped up from the next booth, “If you need a way to ‘treat’ some of your annoying patients I have some solutions over here.” 

           Doc looked toward KL-E-0’s booth coolly for a moment before she told her she’d think about it. 

            She turned her head toward the heavens and cursed her father – may he rest in peace – for making her such a _daddy’s girl_. She was only lucky that weapons in the Commonwealth were more stable than the Wasteland lest she was serviced for repairs as well. Not to mention you had to be pretty well armed to survive Goodneighbor in the first place. Which of course meant knowing your way around a gun. 

            Speaking of which.

            Most of Goodneighbor didn’t really think much of her, at least for the first week or so. They only saw her putting her medical skills to use and assumed she must be some self-sacrificing idiot from a cushy city and assumed she survived as long as she did merely out of luck. Even with part of her brain scooped out she still was better at putting pieces together than some of the goons in this town. 

            Goodneighbor had a reputation and anyone who strolled in without preparing thoroughly was an idiot. 

            A Gunner pair apparently thought she was said idiot and tried to threaten her into giving them all the stims, rad-x, and rad away she had. Wasn’t until she pulled out her plasma pistol and shot the gun right out of both their hands that they realized that she wasn’t any old wasteland idiot.

            She actually considered patching them up. It had been a while since she’d treated plasma wounds and she felt a little rusty. But the two of them (probably in-training or something now that she thought about it) had fled before she could do anything. Of course, the town being the town it is, someone happened to see and word got around that the new doctor wasn’t completely helpless. Somehow she seemed to get more patients after that.

            “Hey Doc.”

            Doc blinked and looked toward the gravelly voice from one of the Neighborhood Watch.

             “Is someone from the Watch injured?”

            The guard tipped his fedora over his face, trying to hide his grin. “Nah Doc, but the big boss wants to see you. Your name’s been getting around ya’ know?”

            Doc’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “I thought the mayor was out of town?”

             “He is, but his second-in-command is filling in for him while he’s gone. She’s in the Old State House. Red hair, carries a minigun. Can’t miss her. Boss’s name is Fahrenheit.”

            She nodded, her gaze level, unrevealing. “I’ll go see her now then I suppose.”

             “Good. Don’t want to keep the boss waiting. Don’t really want to keep anyone in Goodneighbor waiting really.” After that, the Watcher went back to his rounds, satisfied that his message had been passed on.

             After pressing her palms to her eyes to rub out the stress, she began to get ready to greet the Mock Mayor. Doc made sure to carry her plasma pistol at her hip and pack a few meds in case someone needed help or _she_ needed help. Could never be too careful.

             The walk wasn’t too long and soon she was hiking her way up the spiraling stairs toward the Mock Mayor. It wasn’t exactly the confrontation she had imagined. First of all, she had expected to ask the _real_ mayor what he was doing with his town and second of all she was _kinda joking_ _about the entire thing_. It’d been years since she was the gun toting hero looking for her lost father and it was nice to lay low and live up to her name as the Lone Wanderer. She really hoped that this whole thing would be a rap on the wrist. She hoped she didn’t cause any big issues. If she caused any big issues in a town where people basically did whatever they wanted, that meant it was a _really big fucking issue_.

            _Well I guess I’ll find out soon_ , Doc thought to herself. _No point worrying about it now at the endgame._

            Fahrenheit stood with a cig between her fingers and piercing eyes. They were quite dangerous eyes to be frank. Doc had seen a few eyes like Fahrenheit’s in the Wastes and all were quite capable of ripping people to shreds.

             Doc coughed just loud enough to catch the woman’s attention. “I heard you wanted to see me.”

             Turning languidly, Fahrenheit’s lips quirked into a smirk as she saw who stood before her. The good doctor making waves in Goodneighbor. It had been a while since Goodneighbor was this healthy and addiction free. Not that time wouldn’t be able to fix that.

             “Have a seat.” Fahrenheit pointed the butt of her cigarette toward the sofa in front of her and watched as Doc swiftly sat down, eyes staying trained on hands. This one knew how to fight, Fahrenheit had to admit to herself. She was nowhere near as soft as John when it came to visitors. If they weren’t strong enough to survive the town, they shouldn’t be there. But John was a softie for innocents. Still, this person in front of her couldn’t be called innocent. It was clear that they had seen death. Not even the best doctor could prevent deaths in this environment. But this one had a fire in her eyes that showed she’d seen some shit in her time, but still worked to heal despite having taken lives. Fahrenheit had to respect that kind of will to fight the Wastes.

             Fahrenheit took her own seat across the sofa from her. “I see you’ve gotten comfortable in Goodneighbor.”

             “Don’t know if comfortable is the right word.”

             “Well I’ll just get straight to the point then little pawn.” Fahrenheit leaned over the table in front of her and snuffed out her cigarette on the ash tray. Her eyes catching Doc’s behind her glasses. “It looks like the residents of Goodneighbor have taken to your little medical crusade. It’s helping morale and that means we have healthier fighters for when trouble comes to our borders. You also know how to handle your own to have stayed here for a while; which makes _you_ a good line of defense as well.”

             Doc cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you’re not hear to simply praise my deeds. Besides, my influence was only felt by this town because there isn’t a permanent medic here in the _first_ place.” Her eyes narrowed then. “Who thinks about making a town without a doctor nearby?”

             Fahrenheit’s tone sharpened at the dismissal of her praise. “Most doctors in the Wastes only care about how many caps are flooding into their pockets. You eggheads are usually all too cowardly to enter a fight and flood to places like Diamond City to hide behind walls instead of getting down and dirty with us.” Another cigarette was lit between her fingers. Smoke left her lips as she exhaled. Then she held the thing in front of Doc’s eyes. “A town full of chems and ghouls usually doesn’t attract most Wasteland doctors to our place either.”

             Sometimes Doc forgot that most doctors weren’t like her and her father, wandering and trying to help others. She realized that though Goodneighbor might mostly be considered safe to someone like her, it was still not the pinnacle of peace and quiet.

             The flash of realization that flickered between her guest’s eyes was enough to keep her going. “Actually you might be one of the first doctors who’s wandered in here since our mayor became Mayor. Definitely the first one to stay for so long.” Fahrenheit caught Doc’s eye’s again. “So back to the order of business. I was wondering if you’d like to make your stay a little more… permanent.”

             “You’re offering to let me live here?” Doc blurted out in shock. This hadn’t happened since Megaton, and she was pretty sure what she did for them was much bigger than what she was doing for the people in Goodneighbor.

             “Like you said, there’s no doctor here. The job’s open. But for that to happen, you’re going to have to move in.” Fahrenheit crossed her arms. “Ultimately it’s your choice. But mark my words. If you’re in any way fucking with our town, I’m going to find you, and there’s going to be hell to pay. Don’t make me regret this offer, or you’ll be the next body rotting in Goodneighbor.”

             Doc understood too well where Fahrenheit was coming from. If anybody was a threat to her friends in Megaton, she would want them gone as well. The ginger let Doc take a moment to think of any clarifying questions she may have.

             “So how’s this going to work? I set up shop here, sure. But can I leave to get supplies when I want? Negotiate with the townspeople when it comes to supplies? Advertise?”

             “Basically. You can leave whenever you want. This town’s survived long enough without you around, it’ll continue to stand after you’re gone. I’m just saying that it might be better for your business to stick around more than not. From what I’ve heard Daisy and KL-E-0 seem alright with you. As for advertising, I’m pretty sure the town’ll notice that we got ourselves a new medic pretty quick.”

             “I guess I’m in then.” Doc couldn’t help but think about the next letter she’d be writing to Butch and how pissed he was going to be. Pushing that unpleasant thought aside, she extended her right hand in a gesture of good will to Fahrenheit. The leader of the Neighborhood Watch smirked and firmly shook Doc’s hand in response. 

            “Welcome to Goodneighbor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While playing FO4 I noticed that Goodneighbor didn't have a doctor while apparently, Diamond City has like 3. What the heck. I've always thought that the Lone Wanderer would end up in the Commonwealth at some point, with all the references to FO3 that exist in FO4. Since my LW is a complete Daddy's Girl I figure that Goodneighbor is a perfect fit.
> 
> Also, don't know if I want to take this the romance route, and if I do, I don't know whether I want to make it a separate story in a collection or change the tags here. I'll let everyone decide later.


	2. Home

            Hancock wandered back into Goodneighbor with a limp in his right leg, shotgun hanging low. He and the Vaultie had just dealt with the Cabot House and while he was glad that they gassed Lorenzo with radiation, he’d still been dealt quite a beating by those raiders. At this point, he was just glad to be back home among his people. He gave a quick wave and grin to Daisy before walking into the Old State House. He’d make a statement in a couple of days after he felt less exhausted. Either way he was pretty sure Daisy would spread the word that their mayor was back.

            With some difficulty Hancock hoisted himself up the stairs, ready to crash on the couch and inhale a shot of jet. Somehow he ended up staring at the ceiling, the climb a painful blur. He reached in his pockets for _something_ to take his mind off the pulsing pain in his leg.

            “Hey asshole you’re bleeding all over the couch.”

            It took an obscene amount of effort for the ghoul to turn his face to look at his second-in-command. Fahrenheit maintained her steady gaze, but he could see the flickers of concern ghosting her face.  “What the fuck did you do out there anyway?”

            Inhaling the jet, he waited for the world to slow into a blurry swirl.

            “Prevented an insane four-hundred-year old man from invading our lovely Commonwealth. You’re welcome.”

            Fahrenheit’s eyebrows raised up in skepticism before furrowing together in concern for his condition. “You better be staying here for a while. The people miss their mayor. I’m not cut out for taking care of things for too long either. I’d rather be out there shooting people instead of figuring out who stole who’s mentats.”

            “Hey now, stolen chems is a big deal,” Hancock’s voice slurred.

            Obviously, someone was having trouble staying awake, and it wasn’t Fahrenheit. “You’re going to meet our new doc tomorrow even if I have to drag you there.”

            The reply she received was the sound of Hancock’s soft snores.

 

•••

 

            Hancock screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain he expected to shoot through his leg when he reached complete consciousness. As the haze of sleep slowly left his brain, he was surprised to feel only a dull, manageable throb where he was sure a bullet from a hunting rifle had pierced his calf.

            Slowly rising from his bed, he could see that his right boot had been taken off and the right sleeve of his pants was rolled up just enough to get to the wound. Gauze had been wrapped over the injury. He still wouldn’t be able to put too much pressure on his right for a couple of days but he felt considerably less pain than he should have the morning after. He would have suspected Fahrenheit of removing the bullet and wrapping his wound but the lack of pain made him suspect that some sort of anesthetic was used and though he and Fahrenheit might have had access to a lot of chems, medicinal chems were a bit of a different story.

             However, since he was feeling better than expected, Hancock figured that he might as well address go back into town and mingle on the ground floor with his people and find out exactly what changed while he was gone. Maybe he’d get a drink while he was at it.

            Rolling down his right pants leg and putting his boot back on, he stood and left the Old State House.

            The Neighborhood Watch called out to him with hoots and hollers. “Glad to have you back Mayor!” and “The Boss was getting antsy waiting for you to get back!” Hancock grinned and shouted back, “Glad to be back! Looks like you got rid of that limp wrist Greg!” Greg, one of the Neighborhood Watch, shifted his submachine gun and smiled fondly and his wrist. Hancock was quite surprised. Greg’s wrist was funky for months since one raider attack where a waster came at him with a tire iron. None of the town thought he’d be able to use that wrist right again. Greg mainly stuck to one-handed guns after that.

            Some more pieces of this mystery were gathering together. Hancock figured he might as well head over to the Third Rail to gather some more intel. Best place to get the latest gossip and get a little summary of the last week.

            Ham was guarding the entrance as usual, but his harsh stance seemed to lose a bit of its tension as he saw who had finally come back to town. The bouncer nodded his head in respect. “Glad to have you back Mayor.”

            “Nobody’s been causin’ too much trouble around here since I’ve been gone? Don’t need me to go find a couple a folks?”

            Ham shook his head. Satisfied, Hancock made his way down to the bar, happy to know that the town had at least been somewhat quiet for once. Ham could handle most assholes who decided that they were too good for the bar or fools who decided to bother their lovely Magnolia. But once in a while there would be some repeat offenders or someone that required a good ol’ shot to the head.   

            It wasn’t long before he noticed Fahrenheit leaning against the bar with a Gwinnett in her hand, meeting his eyes and looking as smug as the dog that got the molerat. Hancock prevented himself from looking annoyed. He had an appearance to keep up after all. Swaggering over to the bar, he ordered some whiskey – remembering his thanks to Charlie – before facing his right hand woman. Fahrenheit took a swig of her beer while side eyeing him. He could see the amusement in her eyes.

            “Well if it isn’t our good mayor. I would’ve thought you would’ve still been out of commission today, but looks like not even a busted leg will stop you from getting a drink.”

            This time, Hancock couldn’t stop his eyes from narrowing. “What do you know about this sister?”

            “Our new medic payed you a visit last night. Honestly I was just going to have you limp over to their place when you woke up, but Daisy called her and she ended up coming while you were knocked out to fix you up. Looks like she didn’t do a bad job.”

            Hancock looked bewildered. “Someone moved in to Goodneighbor while I was gone? _You_ let someone move into Goodneighbor and they’re a _doctor_?”

            Fahrenheit could understand his confusion if she was being honest. Most people didn’t end up moving into Goodneighbor out of their own free will. Most people who came to Goodneighbor were drifters and usually Goodneighbor was only good for the chem business. Their mayor had looked for someone to take care of the health of the people at the beginning but ended up giving up on the idea of ever having a doctor in Goodneighbor who wasn’t Doctor Amari. Not to mention the fact that it was her who gave someone the key. She was typically known as a hard ass and really didn’t trust anyone to move into town. It was why she wasn’t the mayor really. Bringing in people just wasn’t her thing.

            “Well shit I gotta meet this psycho.”

            Humming her agreement, Fahrenheit turned to look at her friend, her face taking a more serious expression. “I already told her that if she makes one wrong move she’s fucked. But you’re still the mayor so you get the final say on whether she stays or goes. She lives in one of the old warehouses that the Vaultie cleared out back when they first came.”

            “Sister! We still didn’t clean out the bloodstains in there. That’s no way to tread a newcomer ya’ hear?”

            “Calm down I wanted to test her. See if she could really handle living here.”

            Hancock looked disgruntled and a bit disgusted. They finally get a doctor to come in the walls of Goodneighbor and Fahrenheit was trying to chase her away! He understood the need for a doctor who could handle the filth of the Wasteland but hell, nobody liked cleaning up the bodies of dead mercs. That’s why there were so many of them rotting away out there! But curiosity forced him to ask, “So what’d she do?”

            Fahrenheit grinned. “She just fucking walks right in, doesn’t even balk at the smell and scopes out the rooms. Doc rolls up her sleeves, puts on a mask and some gloves and hauls their dead asses out of Goodneighbor. After the first one I decide to help her out. She passed my little test. Got some of the Watch to help her get some of the bloodstains out. Everyone was up in arms about the smell though.”

            “Huh.”

            “It’s better if you meet them yourself.” Fahrenheit’s face hardened. “But if they fuck up. I’ll deal with them.”

            Hancock knew that Fahrenheit has a strong sense of responsibility. If this new doctor ended up being poison, poison that Fahrenheit let in to Goodneighbor, he knew that she’d want to take care of it.

            But based on what Fahrenheit was telling him about this doc, he wasn’t wrong about them being a psycho. But psychos are the ones who survive out here in the Commonwealth. So he guessed he was a bit of a psycho too.  

            Taking a final swig of his drink and popping in a few mentats, Hancock pushed himself away from the bar.

Time to be a mayor again.

 

•••

 

            When Fahrenheit told him that the new doc was in one of the warehouses, he was afraid he’d have to go through all of them. But it seemed like the new doc was into decorating. Bright red neon lights glowed with the words “MEDIC” written above one of the warehouse doors with a blue arrow pointing to where you should enter. There was also a read heart with a a couple of zig zags cutting through it. Hancock wondered how he didn’t see it when he first came into town.

            He entered without knocking but stopped as he soon as he heard someone talking. He inched closer, wanting to see but not be seen.

            A short woman sat on a stool in front of Kent Connolly, examining his bare leg. Medical equipment surrounded her and he could see that she had attempted to organize things around the warehouse. He could see the familiar view of ruined skin very much like his own. Funny. She had probably just seen a very familiar view a couple of hours ago. Her hands didn’t tremble but held firm. Determined hands, no shaking like when he injected psycho once in a while. Surprising. Even people who accepted ghouls had a hard time touching them, even with latex gloves on. He could almost say he was glad that she was a doctor. There needed to be more doctors who weren’t afraid of helping ghouls, even if they might feel better with the help of just some rads, it still felt nice, felt _human_ , to have someone willing to care for them.

            “I apologize for calling you in Mr. Connolly. I had heard you had gotten your leg injured and wanted to know if it was healing okay.”

            There was a self-depreciating chuckle from Kent. “It’s no problem Doc. Sorry for worrying you. So what’s your diagnosis?”

            “Well it looks like everything is healing quite nicely. Your physiology healed you up quite quickly. That scar there,” her thumbs brushed over an area around Kent’s knee, “will most likely remain. If you have a hard time walking or feel any sort of pain, please let me know.”

            “Thanks Doc.” Kent rose up from the stool he was sitting on, rolled down his leg and looked ready to leave.

            Hancock was just about the reveal himself when Doc spoke up again.

            “Oh and Mr. Connolly,” Kent turned to face the Doctor who looked a little uncomfortable now. “I may be only a,” Doc fought for the word that would fit best. “General physician.” By the look on Doc’s face, that wasn’t exactly the word she was looking for, but she continued on anyways. “What I mean is, I’m not a psychologist or physiologist, but if you need to talk to someone about what happened, I’d be ready to lend a listening ear.”

            Kent was unhappy about the fact that so many people knew about what had happened to him, even the person who had only just moved in a couple of days ago. But the fact that she went through the effort of finding him and making sure he was okay, well, that made them okay in his book.

            “Maybe we could talk about the Silver Shroud together sometime,” he joked.

            Doc nodded, the epitome of seriousness. “Whatever you need.”

            Kent tipped his hat in goodbye before nearly bumping into Hancock. “Hey Mayor Hancock! Meeting the new doc?”

            “Something like that. Keep fightin’ to keep Goodneighbor a little bit safer Kent my man.”

            Kent left the building looking lighter than he had looked when he came in.

            Now for the matter at hand.

            Hancock took a moment to really see what the new citizen of his town looked like (not that appearances really mattered to him, he _was_ a ghoul after all). He wasn’t really sure what he had expected. Doc was pretty short in stature, large glasses hanging on her thin, pointed nose. What really caught his eye was the color of her hair. Hair dye wasn’t common in the Commonwealth, though MacCready had mentioned that it was quite popular in the Capital Wasteland. On the other hand, he almost missed the Pip-Boy latched on her left arm, an incredibly important detail. It seemed like that was a trend nowadays.

            “It’s nice to meet you now that you’re conscious Mr. Mayor.”

            “Well I gotta come greet the newest member of Goodneighbor. It would be rude especially when you went through the trouble of comin’ over to little ol’ me for a patch-up.”

            Doc hadn’t risen from her seat and didn’t seem phased at all by his appearance. If they weren’t asking about his complexion, they usually wondered about his choice in clothing, but this woman couldn’t seem to be bothered.

            “Can’t have the Mayor leaving his people waiting, especially when he’s been gone for such a long time,” she paused for a moment to readjust her glasses. “So, are you here to play good cop?”

            Hancock raised an eyebrow. “Run that by me again sister?”          

            “Good cop. To Fahrenheit’s, ‘I’ll kill you if you do anything wrong’ attitude.”

            “Now I just come here to give my thanks to the new doctor who helped me out when I was in a bad spot and she accuses me of coming to shake her down? I’m hurt.” Hancock placed his hand on his chest in exaggeration.

            Doc was _this close_ to rolling her eyes. He was an interesting mayor all right.

            “But seriously, thanks. There ain’t a lot of people out there willing to help out ghouls and even less doctors. Even though we’re less squishy than you smoothskins, we’re not invincible.”

            Hancock watched the edges in her demeanor soften, if only slightly. “You’re welcome. If you’re worried about me turning away anyone because they’re a ghoul, I wouldn’t have stayed in town this long in the first place. I definitely wouldn’t have accepted an offer to stay more permanently either. Besides,” she shrugged, “ghouls helped me out back in the day, gotta pay them back somehow.”

            There was a small bit of fondness that appeared as he remembered how hard she tried to make Kent feel like he had a safe space to talk, and the lack of hesitancy in her hands. He just hoped that she wasn’t all soft, though Fahrenheit seemed to think that wouldn’t be a problem.

            If she could offer one hand to save while hiding one hand to kill, she’d be a perfect fit in Goodneighbor, of that Hancock had no doubt.

            Still, there was some part of him that was still trying to wrap his head around this doctor. She definitely wasn’t from the Commonwealth. She could heal and deal with death without letting it phase her. There was no flinching away from ghouls. Her eyes were hard with experience without letting it freeze her too deep. He hadn’t been this interested in a person since the Vaultie first came to town.

            He was snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes registered a hand being offered to him. Behind the glass covering her eyes, hazel irises locked onto his. A gesture of good will. Usually he was the first to offer his hand. Smoothskins rarely took initiative like that.

            Well he wasn’t going to leave her hanging.

            Their hands met in the middle. Her grasp was firm. There were no doubts in her eyes. Doc wasn’t the type to play with smoke and mirrors. If someone asked, she answered. She was a book. All you had to do was open it and read. She didn’t much care if he was the same as long as he did his job and didn’t mess with the wrong people. She told him as much.

            He laughed then, with the voice of a ghoul, a bit like grinding pebbles together. Not unpleasant at all.

            “Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Mayor.”


	3. Connecting

            Travis’s radio show had become more confident lately, much more like Three Dog from back home. Doc’s lips almost twitched into a smile at that thought. She was glad that the Commonwealth had someone to dream about. Even though she herself had hated it at the time, she knew from personal experience how much hearing stories about how someone fighting out there helped. People needed something to believe in.

            Ignoring her singing Pip-Boy, she turned back to her inventory. She’d packed everything into the highest floor of the warehouse and though it looked like she had a lot, she knew how quickly stocks could be depleted when in a sticky situation. Doc winced remembering when she was fighting the remnants of the Enclave. Now _that_ had been a wretched time. She couldn’t remember when she had used a higher concentration of stimpacks in one sum of time. Looking back, she’d been foolishly reckless.

            Shaking herself out of her revere, Doc turned back to her wares. Luckily, most of the patients she had to take care of so far had relatively minor injuries. Nothing serious enough to warrant an excessive use of stims or rad-away. The box of chems she had collected sat untouched, though she knew how many people in town would kill to get their hands on it. She huffed irritably at the thought. Those chems were a last resort, and would stay that way. Butch had called her too straight laced and she’d smacked him over the head. That was all she needed to communicate her thoughts on his idiocy to him.

             Finished with taking stock, Doc analyzed her list. The thing that stood out immediately was a lack of antiseptic and glowing fungus. The first she could get in hospitals, though that almost always meant fighting raiders or super mutants. The latter was a bit harder to determine. She could always just find more rad-away, but she liked the security of having ingredients in case things went south. She could ask Daisy if she’d ask customers to find some glowing fungus for her, but she didn’t really want to burden anyone with her paranoia. Either way, definitely couldn’t go for both, not in one trip.

            Doc tapped her foot contemplatively. Maybe she _would_ ask Daisy about it over drinks at the Third Rail. Although, there was a nagging feeling telling her to be careful. No one was completely safe in Goodneighbor. Even someone who seemed nice enough at first chat had a separate agenda up their sleeve. Daisy surely didn’t survive so long in this place by just being nice.

            Having made up her mind, Doc removed her lab coat, instead opting for the Tunnel Snake leather jacket that she had gotten so long ago. After that, she made her way to Daisy’s Discounts. Her timing had been spot on as the ghoul was just closing up.

            “Hello Daisy.”

            Daisy finished locking everything up before turning to see Doc standing with her hands tucked into her pockets. The contrast between her wearing such a jacket that had been associated with prewar greasers coupled with such large glasses made her grin. She couldn’t help but comment, “Quite an outfit you got going there, honey.”

            Doc just shrugged. Fashion wasn’t her thing. After all, she’d only worn vault suits for around nineteen years, but Daisy didn’t need to know that. “Thought about competing with the mayor for best outfit. You think I could win?”

            Daisy chortled at that. “I think you already got him beat. But don’t tell him that,” she winked. “But I’m sure you didn’t come just to talk to a girl about fashion. Did you want something?”

            Tipping her head in acknowledgment, Doc replied, “Just wanted to know if you were up for some drinks at the Rail.” She removed a jingling pouch from one of her pockets. “I’ll buy. We might be talkin’ a little about shop so…”

            Pleasantly amused, Daisy spoke up. “Now it’d be rude of me to turn down free drinks from our newest resident. Even if there is a little bit of business involved on the side.”

            Relaxing a bit, Doc pointed her chin in the direction of the Third Rail. Pocketing her keys, Daisy walked next to the shorter woman. Doc nodded again when they saw Ham diligently guarding the entrance as always. Daisy was the one who asked if Ham was holding up alright, being a bit more of a social charmer than she was.

            Eventually the found two seats at the bar. Doc allowed Daisy to make her choice – a bottle of wine – while Doc went for a Nuka Cherry, since that was a little harder to find. Making sure to add a “please” and a “thank you,” grumpy Charlie accepted her caps.

            The two of them let Magnolia’s voice wash over them for a time. Doc had to admit that she appreciated the fact that Magnolia made her own songs. It was always nice to hear something new in the Wasteland. She’d been disappointed when Travis played some of the same songs from back home. It wasn’t like Magnolia wasn’t gifted either, and judging from the woman’s poised stance, she knew it.

            Clapping politely as Magnolia took a bow, Daisy turned to her shorter companion. “So you wanted to talk shop?”

            Nodding, Doc decided to explain her issues. “While taking stock, I noticed that I was running low on glowing fungus. Now I could go out and find it myself but–”

            “You figured that I could have my people bring back whatever they find and sell it to you.”

            “Precisely.” Doc swirled her Nuka Cherry. “Of course, I’ll give you a cut of the profits, or give you a discount on any medical supplies you might need. Or free check-ups, though I’m pretty sure you’ve learned to take care of yourself after living as long as you probably have.”

            “Mentioning a girl’s age while making a business deal? Aren’t you a brave one.”

            “You’re still good looking,” Doc pointed out calmly.

            “Really know how to flatter someone don’t you?” Sarcasm laced her voice.

            Doc shrugged. “My ability to flirt is like my sense of fashion. Nonexistent.”

            A snort came from Daisy. “At least you’re honest about things. Actually, I’m surprised you’ve survived around here with that mouth.” Daisy poured more wine into her glass and took a sip, thinking. “I’ll take that discount of yours for meds. Those sell pretty quick. I’ll ask my people to be on the lookout and whatever I find, I’ll bring to you. If you need any other ingredients, send me a list and I’ll tell ‘em about that too.”       

            “It’s very much appreci—”

            “Now hold on I’m not done yet.” Daisy held up two fingers. “I’ll agree to all this if you answer me two questions.”

            Doc sighed and stared at her drink. Of course there would be a catch. She waved her arm as a signal for Daisy to go on. The ghoul gladly continued.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Dr. Loera.”

            Daisy tsked. “Should’a asked for your first name.”

            Pursed lips were her only reply. “Your second question isn’t that, is it?”

            A shake of the woman’s head said otherwise. “I just wanted to know if you’d bring back any prewar books that were still readable. Maybe check on the Boston Library once in a while for me if you’re ever around there. I want to make sure that place is still clear of the supers.”

            Doc could sympathize with protecting knowledge, and she quickly affirmed that the terms were acceptable to her.

            “Well then,” Daisy held out her drink. “To something of a partnership, eh?”

            Without hesitation, Doc raised her Nuka Cherry bottle and clinked it against Daisy’s glass. “To something of a partnership.”

 

•••

 

            Problem one might have been solved, but problem two was, Doc felt, going to be a bit more difficult. But, she figured, that problem could wait.

            It was probably best that she did wait. It was probably best that she was trying to figure out how to maximize the effectiveness of her stims again instead of sleeping.

            Late in the middle of the night, through her open window, Doc could hear bells ringing and what sounded like the Neighborhood Watch yelling. Alarmed by what this could mean, she stuck her head out the window and took a listen.

            “Super mutants at our borders! Grab your guns and any bullets you can! Meet up with Mayor Hancock at the gates! Get ready to fight! Snipers on the roofs!”

            With a couple of well-placed curses, Doc grabbed her Gauss rifle on top of her plasma pistol and planned to get the higher ground. Without any real armor on, Doc could only hope that none of the supers had any snipers themselves, or she would be fucked. Though from experience, she knew that they never seem to have access to that sort of weaponry. She hoped that none of the ones with hunting rifles got a lucky bullet through. Having worked with the gun herself, she knew that sometimes, you could get surprising long-distance kills in.

            When she reached the roof, she saw people scrambling toward the front gates with their guns, and some people she saw lining the rooftops of the town, though there were noticeably less of them. Setting herself up, she decided to ignore those around her in favor of focusing on the enemy. Peeking through the scope, she saw the scattering of green mutants. Luckily, most super mutants were stupid enough to attack without a real strategy. Instead of trying to pull something like a flank, they attacked head-on. Still, she could tell that they were smarter than the ones she’d encountered back home, excluding Fawkes of course.

She decided to focus on the enemies farther out, especially suiciders or ones with rocket launchers. No one needed them anywhere near the vicinity of the town.

            Looking through her scope again, it looked like some of the other snipers had the same idea. One shot whizzed past the shoulder of the super mutant, but it only seemed to make him angry instead of knocking him down. Judging by the distance the mutant was from the city, Doc figured that just shooting the mini nuke would be more fatal than just going for a headshot. Mutants had thick skin and even thicker skulls. With that in mind, Doc took aim and pulled the trigger.

            She was not disappointed to see the sky fill with the gray plume of a mini mushroom cloud.

            “Damn good shot Doc!” One of the Neighborhood Watch praised.

            After all the suiciders were disposed of, Doc made sure to target the ones with automatic or heavy weapons and keep her view close to the citizens of Goodneighbor, picking off those that they might not have seen coming. Maybe hit a few of their hounds. But based on what she was seeing, Fahrenheit and Hancock were incredible close range fighters. Hancock would blast anyone who dared to get too close with his shotgun while Fahrenheit’s rate of fire pumped what looked to be pounds of lead into her enemies.

            So she directed her attention to protecting the drifters and keeping an eye on mutants with automatic or heavy weapons. Anyone who got too close or became too dangerous would be knocked back with a burst from her rifle. She had to admit though, she was glad that Hancock and Fahrenheit were so effective at clearing a large amount of enemies at once together since she wasn’t exactly the speediest at clearing them on her own.

            Through the scope, she watched their mayor blast a hole through a skirmisher’s head. She was pretty sure that was the last of them, and double checked to be sure. The last thing she wanted was a suicider appearing out of nowhere.

            Content with the lack of nerve-wracking beeping and no signs of any red blinking, Doc stood and pointed her rifle down.

            She couldn’t tell who started it, but suddenly the people roared into a victory cry.

            “No muties are gonna fuck with Goodneighbor!”

            “Of the people, for the people!”

            Doc jolted a bit at the sudden hooting and hollering that started and wasn’t really surprised to see that the snipers that had been nearby stood with their fists thrown high in the air.

            As much as she appreciated solidarity, there was a reason she was called the Lone Wanderer once upon a time, and that wasn’t an aspect of her that changed lightly. Slinging the rifle on her back, she worked her way back to the ground. She wasn’t the best at sneaking – if anything she liked to stay far back and take care of things before they got to her rather than hoping she could avoid enemies by being right under their noses – but she hoped the people were distracted enough that they couldn’t see her trying to get to the injured.

            She could see a couple of people also had the same idea and were cradling a few bodies, trying to plug holes and preserve bodily fluids. She counted four noticeably injured, which really wasn’t bad considering they faced off against super mutants. Two however, had gotten shot in rather painful looking ways. One had ripped through his side while another had ripped into his shoulder and was bleeding quite heavily. Doc could only hope that bones around there hadn’t shattered. She quickly injected the man with one of the super stims she’d been making late at night. Quickly, she crossed her heart because she wasn’t sure if multiple regular stims would’ve done the trick. She turned to the person cradling this man and told him to get him to her clinic. If he needed stretchers, they were stacked up in front of the door.

            She didn’t wait for an answer as she turned to her next patient, a member of the Neighborhood Watch. He was a ghoul but despite his already ruined skin, she could tell that he’d been hit by an energy weapon by the blistering redness of his chest. He was breathing heavily and seemed to be in a lot of pain. There wasn’t much she could do for him among this carnage unless he was back at her place. A stim would help him regenerate in minor ways and help with pain but laser weapons were a bit different of a beast. Figuring there was no other way around it, she jabbed him with a stim and helped him back to her place.

            The other two had probably dragged themselves of their own accord. One had been slammed with a super sledge, probably had broken ribs, and she was pretty sure the other had had one of the hounds on her, based on the savage looking bites on her.

            Doc bitterly figured out that she probably wasn’t getting any sleep at all tonight. The life as a wasteland doctor was truly rewarding, she thought sarcastically.

            At least she got that Auto-Doc up and running.

 

•••

 

            Nobody in Goodneighbor was particularly sensitive to losses, came with living in the Wastes, but it was always a good day when they only had injured after a battle. Hancock was halfway there to treating the injured himself before he realized that their new medic had somehow gotten over from the roof in a flash.

            It seemed that their new doctor of theirs had a one track mind. He could almost hear the cogs turning in her head as her gaze swiftly darted from injury to injury. Most of them had gotten away with grazes and bruises for the most part, so her eyes hadn’t lingered long on them, wanting to focus on the more serious damages.

            After he’d met her for the first time, Hancock hadn’t been able to really interact with her afterward. She’d been busy setting up shop, and he’d been busy with his mayoral duties, making sure too much trash hadn’t gathered on the streets of the town. Though it looked like he wasn’t going to be getting a word in today either, he thought as he watched her hoist up one of his Neighborhood Watch.

            Fahrenheit was watching Doc work in silent approval. He could tell that she was feeling smug, glad that her instincts about people were still sharp. She was probably also quite glad that her plan with the super mutants had worked out in the end. Letting them come near Goodneighbor definitely generated morale. He could see this high lasting for a good while. The Third Rail was going to be quite busy, unfortunate for Charlie.

            As he watched Doc carry some people away with the help of some of his people, Hancock couldn’t help but notice the unique weapon that she carried on her back. He had noticed it during the fight, and he had to admit that he’d never seen anything like it before. The way the rounds knocked back even super mutants from such a distance made him wonder what the hell the thing was made of, and more importantly, where it was from.

            Despite his acceptance of her person, Hancock knew that she was carrying secrets. Sure, he could suppress his curiosity, but he still wanted to know if her secrets would bring any trouble to Goodneighbor. Other than the strange sniper rifle, her back seemed to be burdened with other things.

            He had to admit though, her combat skills weren’t to be taken lightly. She hadn’t wasted a single shot out there, at least from what he’d seen.

            For now, he’d leave well enough alone. He had some celebrating to do as well after all. He’d confront her after he’d gotten stoned out of his mind tonight.

 

•••

 

            Honestly, Hancock couldn’t help but wonder why she even bothered to leave the door closed if it was going to be unlocked. Doc sat in the stool he’d seen her in last time he came to visit. But unlike the time before, where her back had been ramrod straight and her eyes glinting with sharp intellect, she was hunched over in her seat, clutching a pillow, looking quite ruffled. Her glasses were tilted and dangerously close to falling off, her clothes and hair crumpled. He could see her eyes drooping before snapping awake and turning to glance at her patients. It was hilarious.

            It took her far too long to notice that he’d entered and walked up to her. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could see her trying to figure out why he was here. Too sleep deprived to really try to figure anything out. She eventually just settled for closing her eyes and asking.

            “Please tell me you’re not hurt.” Her words slurred together and Hancock couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get her high. She didn’t seem like the type though. What a pity.

            “Well now that you mention it…”

            Even in her depressing state, she could tell that he was teasing her and her glare told him as much.

            “Doc, you’re hurtin’ my heart over here! I think I might need some medical attention.” He waggled his brows with a grin.

            However, Doc didn’t see anything, as she decided to bury her head in her pillow after perching her glasses on top of her head. “If you’re going to stay here take a seat and make yourself useful and guard while I get to sleep.”

            Of course, Hancock took a while to get the message, considering that it was heavily muffled by the pillow she decided to bury her face in, but the message was received. He plopped himself down on the stool next to her, amused by her logic.

            It felt like a day tripper sort of day, so he popped a couple of pills and let them take him away. The worst that would happen at this point was some robbers coming to try and loot her. Well, he’d have a little surprise for anyone that tried.

            “…Wake me up if you need me.”

            Hancock had no intention of doing that. He would’ve preferred to pick her up and place her in bed. Sleeping all hunched over like that was going to do her no good. It hurt his good sensibilities to see a girl sleeping all hunched over like that. Unfortunately, all the beds were filled up at the moment. The Auto-Doc hummed as it worked one of its patients while the other slept soundly on Doc’s bed.

            It was strange to see how quickly the girl seemed to fall asleep in his presence. Though he had to admit, it was flattering to know that she seemed to have some measure of trust towards him. Meant he was doin’ all right as a mayor.

            He figured he might as well do one gentlemanly thing while he was there. Leaving his stool, he walked over and plucked the glasses from Doc’s head. He held them up to his eyes and tried to look through them, only to have his vision become incredibly blurry. Turning to the slumbering doctor, he murmured, “You have some shitty ass eyesight Doc.” He then folded the glasses up and left them on the nearest table.

            He hadn’t gotten any of the questions burning in his mind answered. Still, this didn’t feel entirely like a useless venture, though Hancock really couldn’t point out why. Not that it really mattered yet. She didn’t seem like she would be going anywhere anytime soon. He could pry answers from her later if need be. She just spent time defending Goodneighbor after all. The gal deserved a break.

            Left with nothing to do but wander in Doc’s shed, he decided to poke around a bit. First, he poked his head out a window to listen to the town. Amusingly enough, half the town seemed to just want to go the hell to sleep after being thoroughly exhausted from the fighting, while the other half of the town scrambled to get into the bar, some heading for the Third Rail while others went to Rexford for the iced Gwinnett’s. Satisfied with the state of his town, he wondered if Doc would mind if he did a little snooping around.

            Besides all the medical equipment, he noticed that Doc seemed to have a lot of damn books. He wasn’t surprised to see things like _D.C. Journal of Internal Medicine_ or _Nikola Tesla and You_. What he was surprised to see was what seemed to be a first edition of the _Wasteland Survival Guide_. It wasn’t hard to find bits and pieces of it scattered throughout the Commonwealth but all the editions in one binding was rare.

            Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled it out, attempting to open to a random page only to have a couple of pages fall out.

            Hancock cursed softly and went to retrieve the things, thinking they were pages from the book. He was surprised to see a couple of sketches staring at him. One was a picture of what he thought was a tree, but there was clearly a face in the middle of it and _damn_ he wasn’t high enough for that kind of shit. Another was a picture of a dog staring out into the vast emptiness of the Wastes. He could almost say it was beautiful if he wasn’t living in it. There was a picture of an instrument of some kind, curved and with strings.

The final picture that had fallen out was a picture of an older man. The expression on his face was contemplative, and it was obvious that he hadn’t noticed he was being sketched. His eyes looked tired but sharp with determination all the same. They were also a bit familiar.

            Turning his head toward the slumbering doctor, Hancock tried to imagine her eyes when she was awake. He wasn’t disappointed. The more he kept looking at the picture, the more resemblances he saw.

            Feeling like he was invading her privacy a bit too much now, he hastily collected the drawings and put them back in the book. The book was immediately placed back on the shelf.

            At first glance, the place was downright sterile. Which he supposed was a good thing but frankly, that wasn’t his style, which might have seemed a bit obvious considering he wore a flag as a belt. Maybe next time he went out he’d get her one of those moon monkey things as a surprise.

            But then he thought back to the book, and wondered if the sterile environment was just a disguise.

            The need to find out what made their new doctor tick was growing dangerously inside him. Information was a valuable thing in his profession. The most innocuous seeming tidbits could end up being the most useful.

            But with her, it seemed like he was learning more and more, but all that was doing was generating more and more questions.

            Unfortunately, the quest for answers seemed like it was going to be a difficult journey.

            _It’s fine_ , Mayor Hancock decided. _I like a good challenge._


	4. Questions

_Oh god her back._

            A hiss escaped Doc’s lips as she emerged from her slumber. The world was incredibly blurry. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to remedy the situation, only to find that it didn’t help at all. There was something she needed, but she couldn’t quite remember in her sleep addled state. Leaning back in her chair, she tried to remember, only to immediately regret her movement. The back of her neck and her spine protested quite loudly. She vocalized their protests with one simple word. “Regret.”

            A chuckle caught her attention. She turned her head toward a tan blob covered in red. She was relatively sure that it was the Mayor, but honestly, some weird blob monster could’ve been created by the Institute for all she knew. She didn’t vocalize this out loud, however. She felt he might take offense considering how much he wanted to crack their skulls.

            Instead, she squinted and felt around her head for her glasses. It was the last place she had put them but they didn’t seem to be there. How vexing. Her lips turned downward in annoyance.  

            Hancock watched all of this with a wide, shit-eating grin. Watching her struggle was honestly one of the most hilarious things he had ever seen. After a while, he decided to take pity on her. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for her to stand up only to fall flat on her face.

            He picked up the glasses he’d placed down last night and taps them on Doc’s fumbling hands. Her fingers remove themselves from her hair to grab onto the lenses. It doesn’t take long for them to be placed back on her pointed nose. He notices that she still doesn’t look a hundred percent focused, eyes still droopy from having just woken up.

            “Welcome back to the land of the living sister.”

            Doc narrowed her eyes because _land of the living her ass_. She feels like she aged a good fifty years from sleeping like that. It’s then that she realizes that Mayor Hancock just may have stayed up all night to watch after her patients and stuff. Theoretically, she knew ghouls didn’t really need as much sleep as humans did, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt welling up in the pit of her stomach.

            She shifted uncomfortably before she replied, “Looks like I owe you one.”

            Hancock’s look told her he needed some elaboration so she continued on. “For watching over things last night. You didn’t need to do that.”

            “Really wasn’t a big deal. But I ain’t sayin’ no to having a freebie favor.”

            Nodding in approval, Doc rose from her seat and stretched, pillow falling to the floor. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned backward, wincing at the sound of her bones cracking. Hancock stood near the window, smoking. Doc tended to the wounded, checking for infections and changing bandages.

            Diamond Radio played quietly in the background.

 

•••

 

            Despite only having a couple of people injured during the battle, Doc ended up using more stims and gauze than she had initially thought. It had been a couple of days after the fight and she had more people come in than usual for minor injuries that hadn’t needed to be taken care of right away. People in Goodneighbor were self-sufficient enough to apply basic first aid (or what could be considered basic first aid in the Wasteland), but having a medic meant they didn’t need to do it on their own.

            She could hire a few hands to scavenge materials for her like Daisy did, or buy off stims off of visitors, but she didn’t trust stims from others as much as she trusted her own. Besides, who knows how much they would try to rip her off. It wasn’t like she had that many trustworthy contacts in the Commonwealth.

            So she stood, staring at the face of her stealth armor, wondering if she should or shouldn’t go out without telling Hancock. The answer was obvious, but she felt a nagging feeling that he was going to do something unsatisfactory when she got there.

            After unnecessarily wiping her glasses, something she did when she was unhappy, she got into her old stealth armor but left off the helmet. She put on the old regulator duster on top of her, checking her pockets for old fingers. A disgusting thought but she’d collected a lot back in the day. Satisfied with the lack of appendages in her pockets, she slung her trusty Gauss rifle over her shoulders and holstered her plasma pistol. An empty bag joined the Gauss rifle.

            Satisfied, she locked the door to her clinic and went to have a talk with Mayor Hancock.  She had to admit that in retrospect, she shouldn’t have been surprised to not see him there. Instead, she was greeted by Fahrenheit, who seemed vaguely interested in their resident doctor’s new attire. The woman was sharp and immediately seemed to know what their topic of conversation would be.

            “Need to head out?”

            Doc stared at the empty seat on the couch with a sigh. “Low on supplies. Going to Mass Bay Medical Center. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of days. At best, I’m in and out within twenty-four hours, but knowing the Commonwealth, I’m not going to be allowed that luxury.” She patted her plasma pistol to emphasize what she meant.

             “Hancock went to the Memory Den ‘bout an hour ago. I’m not your mayor today, little pawn.”

            Fahrenheit watched Doc nod stiffly as she began to back out of the room. She had hoped that just Fahrenheit’s permission would be enough, but it looked like now she had to go find Hancock. At the Memory Den of all places. She hadn’t entered the building yet, but she knew of its purpose. It didn’t sit right with her at all, to be frank. But she felt like she was justified in her hesitance, considering her experiences with Anchorage and Tranquility Lane. The later of the two especially sent a shudder through her spine and a dark look to cross over her face.

            Doc had hoped that her timing would be good enough that she wouldn’t actually need to go inside the building and hoped that she would pass him on her way. Of course, her luck was never _that_ good. So she faced the red glow of the Memory Den with squared shoulders.

            She would have greeted Kent, but it seemed he and Mayor Hancock were both in need of reliving some of the good times. The sight of them in their pods sent a wave of anxiety through Doc and the sound of Chinese soldiers rang faintly in her ears. She’d never go back in one of those pods if she could help it.

            Dr. Amari worked tirelessly at a console and Irma lounged on her couch. At that moment, Doc couldn’t help the twinge of rage that flowed through her at them. She knew that she would never truly like them, knowing what kind of occupation they had, no matter how many customers they had. She resisted the feeling of needing to bite something to keep her rage at bay.

            Irma and Dr. Amari were looking at her questioningly, and she realized that they had asked her a question while she was… _thinking_.

            “When will Mayor Hancock be available to speak?”

            Dr. Amari didn't get to answer, as the pod housing the Mayor opened before she could point him out. Doc turned heel and leaves the Den because _God_ she couldn;t handle that place. She looks up at the Commonwealth sky and just breathes. Slow, long breaths to calm herself as she waited for Hancock to emerge.

            When he finally does leave the place, Doc managed to school a look of apathy back on her face. Hancock wass adjusting his coat and hat, with a look of question in his eyes. Doc suddenly felt embarrassed. She could have let this wait. Maybe just waited back at the Old State House, or maybe just waited until tomorrow to take off. It hadn;t been this hard back in Megaton. She didn’t need to _ask_ to leave. She just got up and left as she pleased. Well, she was with him now, no changing that. Might as well inform him of her plans and get on with it.

            “I’m leaving.” Fuck, no. That sounded bad. Shit. That wasn’t what she meant.

            The skin above Hancock’s eyes rose to new heights. She had to correct herself fast.

            “I’m going on a supply run. To Mass Bay Medical Center,” Doc spit out. She moved an arm up and down her person. “Hence the armor. Fahrenheit told me to tell you.”

            Hancock acknowledged the fact that Goodneighbor’s doctor didn’t look so doctor-like at the moment. He was a little bit overwhelmed by what she was saying. He didn’t know what to say when she had said she was _leaving_. Then he realized she meant supply run and _jeez_ was she a handful at the moment.

            He raised his palm up to stop her from getting to the closest thing to babbling she’d probably ever get. “Slow down there sister,” he drawled. “This is a lot to dump on a guy after he’s been through the memory train, ya feel?”

            He didn’t miss her tense at the thought of the Memory Den, and he couldn’t help but wonder what happened with that. He lit a cigarette and filled the air with smoke. Hancock mulled over his answer with smoke on his tongue. “I don’t have a problem with you goin’ out for a couple of days.”

            Some of the tension in Doc’s body seemed to ease out of her.

            “As long as I get to come with you.”

            The tension was sucked back into her body faster than it had left. Her mouth snapped to action. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

            “Take it or leave it sister. Let’s just say I’ve been bitten by the travel bug recently. Don’t need our medic to end up needin’ a medic herself.”

            He gave her the most innocent smile he could, and she has to admit it’s better than anything she could come up with herself. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then tapped her thumb to each of her other fingers repetitively. Doc halfheartedly tried to come up with excuses.

            “You just came back, shouldn’t you stay a while before going out again?”

            “Fahrenheit’s capable of makin’ sure the town doesn’t burn itself alive. Besides, it’s the mayor’s job to make sure all his people are safe. Of the people, for the people, ya dig?”

            “I can take care of myself.”

            “I don’t doubt it, but hanging with ya’ might make the trip go faster don’t ‘cha think?”

            Doc sighed as she rubbed her neck. “I won’t be able to convince you otherwise, will I.”

            “Nope.”

            Another drawn out sigh. “Do you need time to get ready?”

            A triumphant grin was her reply. “Give me an hour and I’ll meet you at Daisy’s.”

 

•••

 

            Fahrenheit gave him a look flatter than century old Nuka-Cola. “Are you fucking serious.”

            Hancock grinned shamelessly as he made sure his shotgun was fully loaded. “C’mon Fahr, can’t have our good doctor traveling out there all on her lonesome.”

            The look on the woman’s face blatantly said, _oh yes you can_. “I regret not giving her my permission to leave alone when I had the chance.”

            “Don’t worry, you’ll be mayor again soon,” Hancock’s eyes twinkled.

            Fahrenheit slumped down on the sofa in the Old State House and pointed aggressively at the Mayor. “You better be back here as fast as possible. No weeks long travels like when you were with that Vaultie.”

            “It’s only going to be Mass Med. ‘S not that far.”

            Running a hand down her face, Fahrenheit groaned. Her face then turned pensive. “Don’t get too caught up in this game Hancock.”

            Hancock stopped stuffing his pockets with chems to stare. “What d’ya mean sister?”

            Narrowed steely eyes caught black. “You know exactly what I mean. Getting to know your people is one thing. Digging too deep is another. Don’t think I can’t tell that she’s not exactly what she seems. There are things hidden under that skin.” Fahrenheit toyed with a case of mentats. “She wants to be a doctor. She’s capable at healing. She’s not planning to sabotage Goodneighbor. That’s all we need to know.”

            He was giving her that smirk. That smirk that said he listened to her but no matter what she said, he was going to do whatever the fuck he wanted because _freedom_ or some dumb shit like that.

            She went for the mentats because fuck him she couldn’t deal with him without being high right now.

            “Don’t die!”

            “Don’t plan on it,” he quipped as he made his way down the winding staircase.

            It didn’t take him long to find her talking to Daisy and KL-E-0. From what he could overhear, she was asking if they needed her to look out for any supplies.

            “Anything that’s good at killing.”

            “I’ll take whatever seems useful. Keep an eye out for those books, though.”

            Doc walked up to him with her arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed look on her face. He caught her mutter, “So _vague_.” The corners of her lips turn slightly more downward when she was standing in front of him. “I had hoped you would have changed your mind.”

            “Not a chance sister.”

            He didn’t expect the small quirk of her lip and the faraway nostalgic fondness in her eyes, as if she was used to having someone mouthy and stubborn following her around.

            “We should hit the road then. Fahrenheit will be displeased if you’re not back in a timely manner.”

            “Nah, if she’s gonna blame anyone, she’s gonna blame me.”

            The two of them left the gates of Goodneighbor and into the drudges of the Commonwealth with steady steps and a quiet confidence.

           

•••

 

            Quickly, Hancock got bored of the gray scenery.

            Staring at broken buildings and a dark sky was only entertaining for so long, even when high. Glancing at his traveling partner, he couldn’t understand how she seemed so engrossed with… whatever she seemed to be looking at. She stared long and hard at things he wouldn’t have given a second glance to. Though he noticed that if she caught sight of a store, it seemed to hold her gaze longer, even as she walked away from it. Graffiti by raiders also seemed to hold her gaze. He wondered if she was actually looking for something or just looking.

            From their time together, it became clear that she wasn’t much of a talker, unlike a certain vaultie he could mention. Or at least, she wasn’t one to initiate conversations. She would reply to things when he asked, but so far, he’d only asked the basic questions about what they were looking for so he could keep an eye out. Once in a while she’d ask something, but it was always business. “Does Mass Medical have a lot of scavengers?” or “Is there anything you think I should look out for?”

            He’d been smoking in frustration, trying to figure out what would get her to talk. Despite the slim chance she’d react well to his nosey questions, he wasn’t willing to take that risk, at least not yet. Not when they were going to walk into a firefight together.

            So, they walked in silence. Hancock sulking in his inability to try and bring up his burning questions, and Doc oblivious to her companion’s state of mind. Though without the chatter to slow them down, they made better time. If he hadn’t been chewing on some mentats, he wouldn’t have realized that they’d reached their destination. Senses heightened, he could hear faraway breathing that was not their own, and realized with some dismay that someone had taken up residence there. Of course, there was always a chance of friendlies, but his instincts were telling him that these people were _not_ the good guys. They seemed like the more hostile, _shoot first, ask questions later_ , type.

            Initially, she’d looked at him questioningly when he’d stopped. Then she’d looked in his eyes and seemed to pick up on his feelings. Immediately, she crouched down, peering around the metal wall that separated them from the hospital. She looked around the entrance and was relieved to see only one guard. She noticed that the face paints the raider-like guard wore was vaguely reminiscent of a skull.

            She turned to Hancock, her voice low and quiet. “Skull face paints. Hostile?”

            Under his breath, her companion hissed. “Gunners, biggest merc group in the Commonwealth. Definitely not gonna sit and puff some jet with us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            Thanks to his heightened perception, he could hear he mutter softly, “So like the Talon Company.”

            He would’ve asked what she meant by that, but she peered over the corner again, but this time, she’d pulled out her Gauss rifle and was looking through the scope. She didn’t need to accidentally miss somebody and have them call in reinforcements. If they were going to do this, they were going to be as efficient as possible. Luckily, there only seemed to be one.

            “Only one guard. I can get him from here.”

            A nod of approval was given. She aimed for his head. He crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.

            Behind her, Hancock had his shotgun ready to go.

            They slipped inside the medical center as quietly as possible, only pushing the door open so they could slither in. They were face to face with some cover that had a painting similar to what Doc had seen on the guard merc’s face.

            “Charming,” she muttered.

            “That’s Gunners all right,” Hancock whispered.

            They didn’t have much time to really consider the sign before the two of them caught sight of another Gunner. A well-placed slug to the enemy’s chest from Hancock gave Doc enough time to switch to her plasma pistol, knowing that it was unlikely that they would be able to stay hidden now. It was better that she used a close ranged weapon for now, she thought as she saw an assaultron rush out to fight. Hancock had gone for its legs as she fought to cripple the laser on its head. They were lucky they had made such quick work of it as she heard more footsteps nearing.

            It wasn’t long before they had the first floor cleared. She’d found some useful chemicals to work with and a surprising amount of stimpacks from the Gunners who’d tried to kill them. She managed to find a syringer. KL-E-0 would probably love it and maybe ask her to help test it on some people. She’d been about to pack away some junk that Daisy might have a use for until Hancock shoved it in his own pockets and handed her some buffout instead. Doc protested, but the man wouldn’t have any of it. He swatted her hands like they were prewar flies. She’d tried to at least shove the buffout back into his pockets because she didn’t take drugs damn it, but he’d moved smoothly out of her way, just agile enough to fly out of her reach.

            Neither she nor Hancock were fast enough to stop the Gunner Commander from entering the damned power armor when they reached the seventh floor. But they managed to keep from being seen. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while thinking. Hancock had just stared at her, knowing that she was trying to think of a plan. They weren’t going to be able to do much damage with the Gunner in power armor, but if they could get the Gunner out of it…

            Decision made, she turned to Hancock and placed a stealth boy in his hands. He looked at her in shock. _No fucking way_ , he had said. In return, she’d simply shot back, _I’m not fast enough for this. Use the stealth boy, shoot the fusion core, get that commander out of the armor. I’ll distract them so you can get to them._

            There was no time for him to protest as Doc had already whipped out her plasma pistol and started shooting. Hancock fumbled with the stealth boy and watched as his hands became transparent. He watched Doc run behind some sloping concrete, forcing the Gunner Commander to try and get closer, leaving their back exposed. Hancock took the shot and watched the commander shut down. As the suit opened, Hancock let his bullet dig a hole through the Gunner’s back.

            Doc ran around, neutralizing the remaining stragglers, fueled by the adrenaline rushing through her veins. When there were no longer any enemies left, she slumped down against the nearest wall and lifted the side of her duster. A grimace flashed across her face at the fresh bullet hole that appeared on her side. She felt her back and flinched when she found a hole there as well. It was a surprise to feel someone suddenly gripping her shoulders.

            Hancock’s stealth boy started wearing off then, his flesh torn face slowly fading back into existence. He couldn’t believe how damn _reckless_ this woman had just been with her life. She’d been lucky to only have one bullet go clean through her when she’d thrown herself out in the field of Gunners as cannon fodder.

            “ _What the hell were you thinking?_ ”

            Plunging his ruined hands into her duster, he searched her pockets until he found what he was looking for. Two stimpacks were gripped tightly in his hands. Roughly, he used his teeth to reveal the sharp stim needle, and plunged the first into the front of her side. The second quickly followed the first, aimed with experienced precision near the hole on her back. The only sign that she’d felt any pain was a slow fluttering of her eyes and a ragged sigh.

            Doc spoke slowly, tongue loosened by the effect of the stims. “I said before, you’re faster than me,” she took another shaky breath and her voice came out airier than before. “Besides, you’re the Mayor. I’m expendable.” Doc closed her eyes, willing the world to stop moving as if she was on a ship at sea.

            "Ya' didn't have to just rush in there like a goddamn  _idiot_. There's no fucking way that was the best idea for killing that asshole."

            

            It was just as well that she closed her eyes, for she didn’t see the fury that flashed past his. She vaguely heard him kick what she assumed was the power armor that the Gunner Commander had worn, based on the metal clang that resonated through the hospital. Doc waited while focusing on the feeling of her flesh slowly trying to heal itself with the help of the chemicals from the stimpacks.

            After a while, she heard the footsteps of who she assumed was Hancock, coming back. He stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel warmth radiating from him. The wall made some scrunching and scratchy sounds as Hancock slid down, sitting next to her, shoulder to shoulder. The contact made her wonder if he was a tactile person. She didn’t know if she could sit so close to someone she’d only just recently become acquaintances with. The Wastes didn’t allow luxuries like touch.

            Air being forced through a small opening alerted Doc to the fact that Hancock was probably using jet. It took a couple of seconds, but she could feel the shoulders next to her fall just slightly. Maybe it was the chemicals in her system or the shock at being shot. Maybe it was the fact that she used to reprimand Butch so often back in the day for finding something new to smoke, or for drinking too much. Either way, she couldn’t stop the words from spilling half-heartedly out of her mouth.

            “Getting addicted will make you feel terrible, you know.”

            Glancing over her side, her eyes met burning black ones. He looked at her directly as he inhaled another breath of jet exaggeratedly.

            She couldn’t help the grin that made her lips turn up because maybe she’d been missing this a little bit since the day she left the Capital Wasteland behind. Someone to banter with, someone who could make her snicker once in a while.

            The man seemed to have missed her expression, as he looked contemplatively at his feet. His eyes looked pained.

            “Am I really that unreliable?”

            “Not at all. You’re quite capable. It’s why I made _you_ take the stealth boy,” she retorted quickly.

            Annoyance flashed across his face at her reply, so she raised a hand to stop him so she could continue. “You’re the mayor of Goodneighbor. I was a traveling doctor just a couple of weeks ago. I die, you find yourself another doctor. It may take time, but I have no doubt that you could do it if you put your mind to it. You die, there’s no replacement. Fahrenheit might be able to cover for you for a time, considering her loyalty to you, but the town would absolutely not be the same.”

            “It’s the mayor’s job to protect his people.”

            For a moment, Doc collects her thoughts. 

            “As a mayor, you inspire loyalty. You want to protect your people? Fine, but your people will also want to protect you. You need to know that people will fall at your feet for you. Compassion breeds compassion,” a small, sad smile graced her lips. “There’s a reason I traveled alone,” she admitted. “There’s no need for someone to hurt themselves over me.” 

            There was still an anger taut behind his eyes. The way she talked about herself, as if she was someone who was just a body to be thrown around. He didn’t like this, this person who worked to help the innocent she came across but was _so damn reckless_ with her life. What made her like this? There wasn't some goddamn hierarchy of the worth of lives. She didn't have to risk hers to try and protect his. He could handle his own goddamn self. He couldn’t help but remember the drifters that he couldn’t stop Vic’s men from killing and felt the need for chems swell up within him. 

            As he was about to find _something_ in his pockets to prevent him from reliving his memories, he was jostled by Doc slowly coming to a shaky stand. She still had some grazes from bullets whizzing past her. He watched her loot the remaining Gunners before disappearing behind a corner. Cursing, he brought himself to a stand. There was no way he was letting Goodneighbor’s new doctor out of his sight if he could help it.  

            Watching from the corner of the room, he saw her eyes light up when she found a bottle of antiseptic _and_ antibiotics. The rad-x was just the icing on the cake.  She put it all in her bag before slowly coming towards him, eyes expectant.

            With a grunt, he led them out of the medical center. He didn’t know whether she was just oblivious or just ignoring him, but she didn’t seem to notice his seething at all. Doc fiddled with her Pip-Boy as they made the trudge back to Goodneighbor.

            He’d been feeling a bit jumpy thanks to the mentats as they walked, so he jumped a bit when he heard Doc’s Pip-Boy start talking.

            “Wayne, I’m leaving this message with Marcie in case you come looking for me, though I pray you don’t. The military took over the hospital and everything has gone to hell in the city…”

            “Don’t tell me you’re pre-war too,” Hancock snapped.

            The message continued to play in the background, painting a horrible scene of what happened after the bombs first fell. Hancock frowned. He’d already been pissed at Doc, he didn’t need this depressing holotape playing, reminding him once again of the people he’d been unable to save.

            “No,” Doc replied, confused by the question. She knew some pre-war ghouls, but it seemed like he didn’t mean that. With his bad mood, she knew she wouldn’t be getting many answers out of the man. Keeping that in mind, she continued. “However, I was in a vault for most of my life.”

            “Got to have gotten that Pip-Boy from somewhere,” he muttered back irritably.

            “Got punched in the nose the same day, so I thought it was well deserved,” she shot back.

            There was no reply, and they walked silently for a while, until Hancock’s curiosity boiled over, fed up with the silence. “That _Wasteland Survival Guide_ in your room. Was that a first edition?”

            “Good eyes. Yes, it’s the original actually. I’m guessing you probably saw the sketches as well?”

            There was no time to feel elated at the fact that she was willing to answer questions about the pictures because he was stuck on the fact that the survival guide he’d touched was _the_ _original_. Hancock remembered when that thing spread like wildfire through the Commonwealth. Though he had no real statistics to back it up, he was sure that many probably survived only because of that guide.

            “Where the hell did you get your hands on the original copy of that?”

            A quirk of her lips betrayed her amusement. Doc cocked her head, glad that the man seemed distracted from the anger that had grabbed a hold of him. “I was the co-author you could say.”

            Hancock had to wonder how high he was because he was meeting the co-author of one of the most popular pieces of post-war literature that had been made. Hancock’s brows tried to disappear into his tricorn.

            “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

            “The mole rats weren’t too bad, but the mines were truly terrible to deal with. There was actually a sniper camped up in one of the broken buildings. He made the cars explode. It was a bad time. Don’t get me started on the mirelurks.”

            From Hancock’s scoff, she could tell that he didn’t fully believe her. Really it was his choice what he wanted to believe or not. It wasn’t as if it affected Doc either way.

            Silence reigned again after that. Doc switched back to Travis and Hancock went back to littering the streets with cigarette butts. She’d been following steadily behind her mayor until he seemed to jolt as if he suddenly remembered something.

            “What was with that weird picture, the one with the face on a tree?"


	5. Try (Assholes and Baggage)

            She’d talked about Harold and by extension Bob (or was it Herbert?) and their unique condition. Again, she wasn’t quite sure he believed him, but he seemed surprised by the possibility that something along the lines of prewar trees were still alive and literally talking. She might have let too much fondness bleed through for the old tree, but he had been quite endearing. Very down to earth (no pun intended). Maybe she was feeling a bit homesick. Not for the first time, Doc couldn’t help but wonder if she was making the right decisions, leaving the Capital Wasteland, leaving behind what very few friends she had.

            Had it been a good idea to decide to stay permanently in Goodneighbor? Only time would tell her that, Doc supposed.

            “Where did you come from, sister?”

             Doc wondered what brought this on, but wasn’t into prying as much as Hancock seemed to be. It didn’t bother her that he wanted to know more about her. Her father had raised a healthy curiosity in her when she’d been a child, and encouraged her to seek out answers when there seemed to be none. Unfortunately, that curiosity never extended to people, probably because people were so hard to judge. Asking too much could turn into a gun fight in this insane new world humanity created. Her father probably predicted that one day, she might end up in this world, and so taught her not to pry.

            “Vault 101. Capital Wasteland.”

            Hancock nodded, as if he’d known this from the start. It wouldn’t surprise Doc. Behind the chems and the marred skin, there was a frighteningly smart man hiding himself. There was no way he’d been able to keep a town spinning this way without some measure of intelligence. He was also an astounding chemist, from what she heard, though his chems probably differed quite vastly from hers. His ability to know when to make someone was going to betray him or follow him was proof of his perceptiveness. Not to mention his ability to use words to bend people to his will. No doubt, this was a capable and dangerous man. Not someone you’d ever want to make an enemy.

            “So what brought your suicidal ass to the lovely Commonwealth Doc?”

            Frankly, Doc didn’t know herself. Hancock was forcing her to be more introspective than usual. How very annoying. It took her a while to find a concise and acceptable answer.

            “Searching and running. That’s it, at the heart of it anyways.”

            It was a fitting answer. After so many years, she realized that her father was still what she was orbiting around, unable to escape his gravitational pull. It was pathetic of her, but that was what it was. At first she’d been running toward him, and now she felt the need to run away from everything that was and had been him. Maybe she was trying to run away from herself, who’d been so much of her father but so completely not all the same.

            Searching was harder when you didn’t quite know what you were searching for. Meaning, maybe? Ever since she’d left the vault, every year had felt like ten. It made her feel listless. The drive to go out and try to help had left her, maybe starting when she’d seen her father succumb to radiation poisoning. Or maybe she’d actually stopped really living when she’d punched in those three fateful numbers.

            “Guess we’ve got more in common than we thought,” Hancock murmured under his breath.

            Doc wondered if he was okay with this, her acting as if she didn’t care about him at all. It was just so difficult for her to talk about herself, let alone ask about others.

            She wondered if “Lone Wanderer” meant anything to him at all. Did she want it to? Did she ever want to be a story?

            What was his story?

            Doc blinked hard. Curiosity. Towards him? It was probably just the stims messing with her. She was probably just tired. Fighting so many Gunners was tiring.

            “Suppose I should start finding some back up doctors for Goodneighbor now, considering you’re so ready to get bullets shot through you.”

            A sigh left Doc’s lips. He was not going to let that go, she knew. Her post Purity fighting tendencies had actually been what made Butch and Fawkes form an intervention, convincing her to leave saving the Wasteland to someone else for a little bit. They told her to, well Butch did anyways, “Get laid, get wasted, go on a goddamn vacation for all I care Nosebleed, but you need to do something other than trying to get yourself killed.”

            He’d been so hilariously exasperated when she’d gone to Point Lookout and brought back a piece of her brain. Well, at first he was shouting because that was “fucking _gross._ ” Honestly, she was kind of insulted. It was _her_ brain.

            So she had a habit of almost getting herself killed. Big deal.

            Really, she must have been _quite_ tired because it seemed like she’d said that last bit outloud and Hancock was giving her a very angry look again, teeth a little bared, eyebrows furrowed downward, the entire package.

            “Look,” Hancock spat out. “You seem like a pretty good gal. You don’t care about _this_ ,” he waved a hand up and down his body, “and you’ve been pretty good to my people. Hell, we probably would’ve lost more people if you weren’t there during the super mutant attack.” His anger blended with some pity, and Doc guessed that maybe she _was_ pitiful for believing her life to be worth so little now that she’d had her magnum opus.

            “Does it really surprise you that much that I might want you to stick around? Fahr might have told you already, but it’s kind of a bitch to find a doctor around here.”

            It seemed her thoughts had paused somewhere during his little speech. A tiny thought gave him praise for his ability to be so charming. No wonder his people liked him, she could almost think that he cared about her. She figured though, that there was no way around him. If she was going to stick around Goodneighbor, she’d have to watch herself. Think a little bit more instead of rushing in like she’d gotten used to doing. Doc rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

            “I can’t promise I’ll always be better about this. Old habits die hard after all. But I’ll try. Can’t go against the mayor’s requests. That would make me a bad citizen I suppose.”

            It wasn’t a promise, Hancock knew, but he seemed appeased by it for now. That was enough, hopefully.

 

•••

 

            She was such an enraging puzzle. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she was skilled, but still so reckless that he wondered if her skills were truly good enough to make up for her displays of recklessness. Sure, he thought, she was only putting herself in danger and not him, and she could probably use that as an excuse to get him to back off, but that would honestly piss him off just as much as watching her act recklessly alone.

            He couldn’t stand watching good people act like they were pieces of shit, and yeah, maybe he was being a hypocrite. He hated himself for the days when Vic had been running the show and he’d stood by and done _nothing_. Still hated himself during the bad days. Of course, he'd put himself in hellish situations as well, but she was right, he had something to come back to. Hancock knew he didn’t know her at all, know who’d she’d been, what she’d done. It was obvious that she’d seen some shit though, based on what she’d been telling him about her travels.

            But in spite of what trauma she might have gone through, she was still _trying_ , and he wanted to help people who were trying. He could see that she still wanted to help people, even if she might not know that about herself. He saw it in the way her eyes had gone wide with concern for his people during the battle, the way she used her stimpacks without a thought for them, the way she’d stayed up late at night, making sure that someone was looking after them. He’d also heard that she’d only asked for a fraction of the price she should have when they were free to go.

            It was like looking into some sort of fucked up mirror and seeing her on the other side.

            He’d accepted her compromise, but it was no promise. Hancock figured that he’d have to keep an eye on her. Though she apparently had a strange ability to survive dangerous situations, there was no way her luck would last much longer. One day her skills, or luck, would fail her.

            For now, he’d pretend to be satisfied with her answer, knowing that it was all that he was going to get.

            Later, when he was feeling less frustrated, he was going to get answers out of her about her past. Maybe he’d drag her out to the Third Rail, get some drinks in her and see if it’d loosen her tongue.

            They’d been up nearly twenty-four hours, he thought as he watched her yawn and wobble dangerously. He would’ve stopped and found somewhere for her to sleep, but they weren’t too far from Goodneighbor, and she would most likely sleep better on a warm bed where everything _wasn’t_ trying to kill her. Well, okay, you generally had to sleep with one eye open in Goodneighbor, but she was new enough that many people probably didn’t have grudges against her yet. There were also locks.

            He looked back once more and saw her hand moving toward her mouth, probably to cover up a yawn, but the position of it was all wrong. She suddenly flinched, droopy eyes a bit wider as she moved the hand to rub at her eyes behind her glasses. Hancock turned away, wondering what that was all about, but really didn’t care to put much thought in it.

             Gratefulness filled his gut when the neon signs started coming into view. This entire journey had turned out differently than he’d expected, a new tenseness in his shoulders, not exactly caused by the fighting. He almost missed that MacCready had been walking toward Goodneighbor as well, busy rolling his shoulders.

            “Hey MacCready, did the vaultie ditch ya’?”

            In the corner of his eye, he watched Doc snap to attention, a bit more awake now.

            “If it isn’t the best mayor of Goodneighbor.”

            “I’m the only mayor of Goodneighbor, MacCready,” Hancock returned good-naturedly.

            The past Gunner only shrugged and leaned over to look at the woman behind him. Hancock watched his eyes widen comically and mouth drop in astonishment. Doc had been staring at the man curiously, his face feeling just a bit familiar, but completely not. Apparently, he seemed to recognize her though, by the way he seemed in disbelief of her presence. Hancock had moved to watch the both of them, curious at MacCready’s reaction.

            Based on his reaction, Doc supposed that she’d have to make the first move. “Are you all right?”

            The bearded man’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he’d gotten words out of his mouth. “You don’t remember me? Well I guess you wouldn’t remember me. It’s been around ten years after all, I probably look a heck of a lot different.”

            Ten years, that meant they’d have to have met sometime before the Commonwealth. She’d still been looking for her father and trying to play hero like an idiot. She wrestled with her memories until MacCready seemed to realize that she wouldn’t get there without some help.

            “Remember Little Lamplight?”

            Little Lamplight? That had been the place near Vault 87 with the G.E.C.K. But how did this man…

            It hit her like a pile of bricks and a grin was spreading across her face. _Oh_. It was all clicking together so quickly and suddenly, Doc realized that ten years was a _real fucking long time_ because look at the kid mayor turned adult.

            Hancock watched with no small concern as Doc’s knees hit the floor and she threw her head back with tears in her eyes as she laughed her goddamn ass off because shit, God had graced her with the comedy and she was going to enjoy the hell out of it. Sure, her knees burned and were probably scraped but hell if it wasn’t worth it.

            “What’s,” she gasped out, “the probability that I meet two mayors in one town?”

            MacCready’s face was turning red, and Hancock so badly wanted to know what the hell the two of his people were talking about because he felt completely out of the loop. Hell, he hadn’t even been given time to register the fact that Doc could _smile_ , let alone _laugh_. What on earth did she even mean about two mayors? Obviously, MacCready seemed to have a clue because he looked like he wanted to be _anywhere but here_.

            The two men awkwardly watched Doc’s giggles fade slowly. With her last bit of energy, she lifted herself to her feet and went to wipe the tears out of her eyes because _damn_ , she hadn’t laughed that hard in _forever_.

            She placed her hands down on MacCready’s shoulders, her grin still painted on her face.

            “It’s good to see you’re doing okay brat. If you ever need a patch up, you can find me anytime. I won’t charge you much.”

            With that, she kept walking toward the neon Goodneighbor sign, her snickers echoing and making her shoulders shake as she walked.

            MacCready’s eyes shifted from Hancock to Doc rapidly, unsure what he should be doing from here on out. Hesitantly, he started to follow Doc back to Goodneighbor, keeping his eyes trained on Hancock.

            Narrowing his eyes, Hancock ran to catch up to MacCready who walked a distance behind Doc. The two men walked side by side. Quietly, Hancock hissed at MacCready so Doc wouldn’t hear.

            “What the hell was that?”

            MacCready shifted uncomfortably, looking like he regretted even responding to Hancock’s greeting before.

            “I met her when I was only twelve okay? She came to our place to try and get into a vault that was nearby. I let her in…eventually.”

            Hancock wanted more, MacCready knew, but all he knew was that she’d been on the radio often. He’d never connected the woman who’d demanded access to Vault 87 with the woman that Three Dog blathered about all the time though. He’d been twelve! Give him a break! It wasn’t like he was up to date on what was going on outside of Little Lamplight. He didn’t care about no Mungos, he was too busy making sure nobody was dying.

            “Look Mayor, you’re probably better off asking her. I only barely know about her, and she knows who she is better than I do. But she helped us out at the time and I just kinda liked messing with her when I was a kid,” MacCready remarked before trudging a little further away, walking closer to Doc, who was _still_ giggling behind her hand in bits and bursts.

            When MacCready was almost standing shoulder to shoulder with her, she attempted to ruffle the man’s head, despite the fact he wore the hat, and despite the fact she was barely tall enough to do it.

            Hancock didn’t know what to make of this strange development. Out of all the people she might have known from Goodneighbor, MacCready had been a real blind spot. Seriously, you couldn’t blame a ghoul for missing that. Not to mention that they’d met only a couple of times _ten years ago_. Spending time on this girl was aggravating him more than he’d thought it would. Usually, he’d be able to keep his cool, or at least calmly kill the people he disliked (how you doin’ in hell Finn?), but their new Doc was honestly just a _mess_.

            He patted his pockets and was amazed to find most of his stocks depleted. This girl was gonna _kill_ him. Finally, a dispenser of jet seemed full enough for him to get a couple of hits in. Quickly shaking it up, he took a hit and let the high flow through him.

            Relief flooded through Hancock when they all finally entered Goodneighbor. It was late in the night so Daisy and KL-E-0 had decided to close shop for the night. This undoubtedly meant that most of the population was in the Third Rail. MacCready had given the two of them a tip of his hat before heading that way himself. Having regained control of herself in the past couple of minutes, Doc managed to give him a nod goodbye with only a regular sized smile on her face. Hancock had informed the other man that he’d most likely be seeing him there later.

            He’d been about to tell Doc he’d be on his way when a courier beat him in getting her attention. He’d asked her if she was Loera, which she’d confirmed. The man handed her a letter which she’d calmly exchanged with another. Doc gave her thanks and a couple of caps before he’d left.

            Of course, he couldn’t stop his damn mouth from running itself without his permission. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to spend more time with her, or if he didn’t. “Letters sister? You definitely seem like the type.”

            Doc smiled as if having laughed once loosened the muscles she used to smile so she could do it more often now. She looked at the letter before opening it and reading the some of the most interesting lines out loud.

            “ _Nosebleed, you fucking piece of shit, you can’t just live in a goddamn Commonwealth and leave me dog sitting forever, you asshole!_ ”

            She folded the letter and tucked it in one of her pockets, looking deeply amused.

            “Sounds like a stand-up guy,” Hancock remarked sarcastically.

            “He should have recorded a holotape. My voice doesn’t do him justice,” she remarked before an exhausted look settled across her face. “I’ll be going back to the clinic now. I’m sure you’re tired of my company.”

            “Not going to invite this handsome looking face to bed tonight? You must have bad taste.”

            “Saving you the trouble of having to see my wretched face the next morning. You should be thankful.”

            With that, Doc turned on her heels and yawned into her hand as she made her way back home, leaving Hancock’s head reeling with all this random information he’d gotten about her in the last half hour. One, she’d met MacCraedy ten years ago when MacCready might have been a brat of a mayor (imagining MacCready as a little kid made him want to laugh because he was sure that as a kid, he was even more of an asshole than he was now, and he’s saying this all in fondness). Two, she had a friend who sounded like a complete dick and called her nosebleed for some reason (but she seemed oddly fond of him so maybe that letter wasn’t all that it appeared to be).

            With his own exhausted sigh, Hancock removed his hat and rubbed at his head. Maybe it would be better for his health if he stopped trying to analyze her so much and returned to a life without her and all her goddamn mysteries and just went back to simply getting high. Intellectual pursuits and mystery solving were more up Nick’s alley, not his. His smarts were better dedicated to making better chems for more fun. In reply, his heart seemed to tug at him, reminding him how kind she’d been to Kent, how he’d enjoyed teasing her, and though he might not have been focused on it at the time, he remembered watching her laugh uproariously with tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.

            Fuck him, he was fond of her.

            It was always a slippery slope in the Wastes. To survive, you needed allies you trusted, but you needed to be acute enough to know when to avoid certain people. That was all brain work. The bigger problem came in when you started liking people for their _personality_ or some shit like that. He’d seen that end badly for people who weren’t smart enough to realize they were blindly following an organ that just pumped blood through your body.

            He was definitely smart enough to make sure that he wouldn’t do something stupid to put him or his town at risk. The problem was, he felt that Doc wouldn’t either. It may not have _seemed_ like a problem, but it was definitely a problem. His gut was pretty keen at detecting assholes, and Hancock’s asshole detector wasn’t going off, but his baggage detector, which may or may not have been somewhere near his groin, was (and while getting ready for bed, Doc shivered because someone nearby was being _medically inaccurate_ ).

            Of course, while thinking about things like assholes and baggage, he’d ended up at the Third Rail, where these two things were usually in excess. Lovely.

            Anyways, Doc wasn’t an asshole, but she had baggage, even though he barely knew anything about her, he could feel those two things for sure. Also, he was fond of her. He’d like to think himself not an asshole to most people, and he also had a lot of baggage. They were a goddamn great pair. But liking her meant that he was going to try and take on her baggage when he had his own heaping pile of baggage to take care of.

            Somehow, he’d ordered some vodka and decided that getting drunk was a great idea. Not his worst idea, by any means. He was halfway there when Magnolia decided to take a seat next to him, and just maybe ruined his plans of getting drunk and trying to forget about assholes and baggage.

            “Hello Mayor, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around these parts. Been busy traveling I hear.”

            Fatigue was settling in his bones, but he could still play this game with Magnolia. Besides, she usually was quite insightful about things, even though he usually only dropped hints about what was truly in his thoughts. He wasn’t comfortable with the way that Magnolia seemed to get at the heart of what was bothering him, but wanting to be uncomfortable was what had driven him out of Goodneighbor in the first place.

            “Mags, darling, if it isn’t a joy to see your face. Gotta leave town once in a while and make sure that I still got the old spark.” He patted the shotgun leaning against the bar once. “Stretch out my legs and all that.”

            Magnolia hummed. “Rumor has it that you’re even escorting our newest resident. Showing them around town.”

            Hancock huffed. Were it so easy. If that was all he had to do, he would have done it by now. “Gotta make sure our new medic’s got everything they need to patch us up next time raiders or the big green assholes decide to attack.”

            “Ahh yes, I’d heard that she was a unique one. Been here a long time, and never seen a doctor who decided to stick around. Think I saw her around here once. Stood out quite a bit.”

            Hancock thought of glasses covering up half of her face and the two distinct jagged knife wounds that scarred her face, the unnatural color of her hair, and the way she stared into the scope of a sniper rifle he’d never seen in his life and thinks that unique doesn’t even begin to cover it.

            “Makes you want to figure out how she ended up in our neck of the woods, doesn’t it?”

            That was the heart of all his problems, he realized. Everyone else in Goodneighbor, he welcomed with open arms. Make sure you cause no problems and remembered who was boss, and they’d be fine. He never felt the need to ask how or why someone had stumbled upon his town. Most people never really wanted to talk about it anyways. It was the first time that he’d actively wanted to pry out answers from a person, and it went against his principles.

            What bothered him even more was that she’d probably answer if he just asked.

            “Nah,” he lied through his teeth, “whatever reason she came here for, long as she doesn’t cause any problems, it don’t matter much to me.”

            Magnolia’s eyes were sharp, and her instincts were sharper. She knew. He knew she knew.

            He finished the most of the bottle in the end, and stumbled back to the Old State House, trying to forget that he was a person who cared.

            Fuck his bleedin’ heart and fuck his brain too, for its goddamn insatiable curiosity.

 

•••

 

            A good twelve hours later, Doc woke up feeling much more refreshed than she had after pulling an all-nighter. Of course, her side decided to protest heavily at her movement. Stimpacks had helped with most of the damage, but she still felt like a Brahmin had run into her at full speed, concentrating its efforts on her side. She just had to remember that pain was a reminder that she was alive. No matter how much it smarted. 

            It was easier to wake up in Goodneighbor. She had potential patients to wake up to, instead of what it had been like in Megaton, waking up either in panic, because she _still_ hadn’t found her father, or waking up and wondering if it was better just to stay asleep instead of facing the day.

            She found herself thinking less about living and dying while in Goodneighbor. Maybe it was because she was farther away from home.

            Of course, Doc would never admit it to Butch, but the guy might have been right about her needing to take a vacation. Maybe she’d just sketch things for a while or figure out new medical techniques that might be useful in the future. At least until she needed more supplies anyways.

            Needing something to voice her thoughts out to, she leaned over her bed and dug out the lump of brain she’d gotten from Tobar. During her travels, besides Dogmeat, her brain had been her most trustworthy companion, though she had to admit, Fawkes gave it a run for its money with his brute strength. She’d also be eternally touched by the fact he came for her after she’d been captured by the Enclave. Tears had almost been shed in pure gratefulness. It was also touching to know that he’d thought of her as a friend, always making sure to mention it when they’d talked.

            Though seeing a part of her most constant companion in physical form was still unnerving, no matter how many years it had been since the gray matter had been removed. For all her smarts, she could be damn stupid sometimes. It’d been the first time someone had called her out on it though, she thought as she clutched the tub.

            She still felt a terrible sense of loss, for a myriad of reasons.

            “Maybe if you were still in my head, I’d be a little bit better about everything.”

            No response, not like she expected anything.

            “I’m probably going crazy without you. Can’t tell if I was just as crazy with you. Then again, I did work for Moira, and you were still there.”

            Her brain bobbed a little.

            “I’m talking to a piece of my brain. I’m doing really well socially, as you can’t see.”

            She might have seen air bubbles.

            “Good talk. Miss you too. I’m going to do something productive with my time now. Hopefully.”

            Doc slid the brain back under her bed and hopped over to her discarded items from when she’d walked in, locked her door, dropped everything, and collapsed on her bed.

            Organizing seemed productive enough. She’d put away everything, maybe go give KL-E-0 that syringer she found. Maybe try to go out with drinks with Daisy or Fahrenheit. Teasing the shit out of MacCready seemed like an appealing option as well.

            All she could do was try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious as to what Doc looks like for the most part you can check out [this profile](http://bauleedraws.tumblr.com/post/146758040227/profile-under-the-cut-warning-very-longmore) I made for her with some general information.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!


	6. Looking Back and Getting Around

            Staring down at the incoherent scribbles and doodles on the piece of paper she’d been about the write to Butch, Doc realized that writing at the odd time of – she checked her Pip-boy – five in the morning was probably a bad idea. Besides her messy doodle of a super mutant going “roar,” she’d managed to write two sentences of heartfelt, “Have you been traveling as a hairstylist?” and, “Are your Muttmeat and Barkmeat okay?” She couldn’t stop the pang of pain at the thought of Dogmeat when she’d finally been laid to rest. Butch had helped her bury her loyal companion. However, Dogmeat hadn’t left without giving them presents. Two beautiful pups had been gifted to them. Unfortunately, she’d had to leave Barkmeat to Butch when she’d decided to go to the Commonwealth. The poor thing had been sick with radiation poisoning at the time, and she wanted him to be near as much purified water as possible.

            Still, Butch would not be happy with a mere two sentences after writing her what seemed to be an entire essay cussing her out for deciding to live in what he had heard was basically the Underworld combined with some place like Megaton or Rivet City. Though she had to say, if anything, Rivet City was more like Diamond City, except a lot darker. The only redemption he’d seem to have seen was that she was going to be easy to find, which wasn’t saying much, considering they’d put trackers on each other’s Pip-boys when they decided to stop traveling together.

            Doc wondered if he had plans to bring Fawkes. With slight panic in her gut, she added an extra sentence of, “Please tell me if you’re going to bring Fawkes.” Putting her pencil down, she looked at her ink covered wrist. It looked like she wasn’t going to be able to cross out “respond to Butch,” anytime soon.

            It was still mainly dark out, but based on experience and terrible traveling and sleeping habits, Doc knew that the sunrise would be happening soon. Grabbing her sketchbook, she set out to see it.

            Being a sniper, Doc had a way with heights. Getting a good view of a sunset wasn’t difficult when you could find out how to get to the tallest buildings. Eventually, when she was satisfied with the view, Doc plopped herself down and basked in the warm glow of the rising sun. She’d brought a generally intact sketchbook she’d managed to scavenge, but today, Doc was more inclined to just watch instead of capture.

            Ten years had changed a lot of things, but it hadn’t changed how she felt about nature, at least in contrast to the vault.

            No matter how frightening it had been to come out of the vault for the first time, she’d been struck by the beauty of the Wasteland, the feeling of the air moving unpredictably across her face, the feeling of natural light on her skin, hitting her eyes, and all the colors besides blue and gray that she had almost forgotten existed. It had been broken of course, but still very beautiful. She’d had ten years to try to capture a post-nuclear sunset (not that she had a pre-nuclear sunset to compare to) but she’d never been quite able to do it with charcoal, pencil, and paper. Too much gray, not enough color. She’d indulge in paint or colored pencils, but that was even rarer than the supplies she’d listed.

            Doc would stick to landscapes and portraits for now.

            The horizon shimmered and glowed with the colors of the sun, warm shades of yellow, orange, and red bleeding into the blue sky.

            Doc wasn’t an overly sentimental person and didn’t like to look for meaning where there was none, but sunrises felt like new beginnings.

            After the sun glowed high in the sky, Doc stretched out and looked down on the town. It was still too early for most people to be out and about, either too hungover or too tired to brave Goodneighbor. Still, the night shift of the Neighborhood Watch stood on guard, but there were a couple she caught yawning as the ghoul members snickered at them. As she made her way back down to the ground, she wondered what she should do for the day. She was about to check her wrist or maybe just go back to finishing Butch’s letter when she heard her name being shouted out.

            “Hey Doc, what are you doing up this early?”

            The voice was distinctly gravelly, which led her to believe this was a ghoul, but it was noticeably timid, which only left one ghoul that she knew. Looking up from her wrist, she confirmed that it was Kent Connolly. She’d noticed that sometimes his radio would pop up on her Pip-boy once in a while, which led her to believe he was doing okay.

            “Good morning Mr. Connolly. I could ask the same of you.”

            The man rubbed the back of his neck with a small sheepish smile. “Ghouls don’t need as much sleep anymore.” He caught sight of the sketchbook clutched loosely at her side. “You draw?”

            Doc was amused by the fact that he said it so reverently and seemed so stunned by the idea. Then again, from what she’d heard (or hacked, people were terrible at making their terminals secure), he had been pre-war. Nobody had time anymore to do something as silly as sketch when they were trying to survive day to day. The most art people saw in the Wastes were raider graffiti. People were probably even less inclined to draw often enough to keep a sketchbook.

            As a show of goodwill, she offered up her sketchbook to him. She was relatively proud of her skills, years of sketching during her free time had sharpened her skills considerably. Still, the man looked unsure of whether he was truly being allowed to flip through it. He searched her eyes for any signs of aggression. Of course, he found none, so his hands slowly grasped the edges of the end she’d offered. Once sure that he had a firm grip on it, she let it go, watching him open the cover and glance through.

            Kent flipped through the pages, amazed by what he was seeing. It’d been so long since he’d seen any art that wasn’t eroding posters or printed. This was pure pencil and paper work and it was _new_. Suddenly, he felt something that he couldn’t find words to describe. Seeing someone else _creating_ out there, just like him, made him his eyes water just a bit. Other people were trying. It wasn’t just him.

            There were so many too. Dogs, people she’d met, seen traveling, Wasteland creatures (some of these were very scientific, with notes scribbled along the sides), and hell, there were even pictures of ghouls, and she drew it all with such carefulness and caring. What got him most, though, were her pictures of landscapes. Looking at it first hand, having been from before the war, all he saw was something broken, but from her view, it seemed like she saw something beautiful, something fresh, despite all its savagery.

            With slightly trembling hands, he handed the book back to her, looking at her with new eyes.

            “Y-you’re really good. Do you really see,” he waved his hand toward the gates of Goodneighbor, “the outside like that?”

            As she gingerly took the book back and shifted it so that it fit right back under her arm, she replied, “Though incredibly dangerous, it’s hard to deny that the Wasteland is still a marvelous place. Then again, I lived behind metal walls all my life, so I might be biased.”

            “N-no, I think that’s good. Hopeful, you know?”

            Doc nodded. “I don’t think I put that much thought to it, but I’m glad that my drawings aren’t depressing. That’s not what I’m trying to express.” She looked lost in thought for a moment, trying to catch drifting memories. “I remember you mentioned something about a pre-war character before. If you have any merchandise, I’d enjoy seeing it. I’m always looking for new muses.”

            It was hard to miss the way Kent’s eyes lit up at the vague mention of the Silver Shroud. “Of course, come over to the Memory Den anytime! I’d love to see him in your style!”

            Doc had to work hard to keep her distaste from bleeding through. Kent was like a puppy, and she honestly didn’t have it in her to disappoint puppies. He was just an anxious guy who wanted others to share his passion. As much as she disliked the place, she knew she’d end up visiting anyways.

            So, she nodded. “Of course Mr. Connolly, I’ll visit when I have the time. Perhaps we can collaborate.”

            She hadn’t thought it possible for his eyes to light up brighter, but they did. “M-maybe we could write a Silver Shroud comic!”

            Doc had enough of “writing” when she paired up with Moira, but working Connolly couldn’t be as bad, could it?

            “One step at a time, Mr. Connolly. I’m not sure I can even draw this…Silver Shroud, to your expectations.”

            He nodded, but she wasn’t quite sure that he took her words to heart.

            “I should head back now, but please come find me at the Memory Den anytime,” he repeated while starting to turn.

            “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Connolly. I hope next time I meet you at a more reasonable hour.”

            She watched him turn back and smile, and was about to go herself when she heard a bright, “Please call me Kent!” But before she could reply, he was gone. She was surprised that the ghoul remained so optimistic even after living out two hundred years in this environment. Really, her respect for him was immeasurable.

            “Well, aren’t you busy making friends,” another raspy voice teased.

            Turning, Doc came face-to-face with Daisy. She hadn’t realized that she and Kent had been talking so close to the store. Still, it seemed much too early for the other woman to start opening up shop.

            “Is everyone suddenly sleeping a lot earlier or not sleeping enough? I can’t quite tell.”

            “As much as I’d like to stay in bed all day, we gotta make a living here.” Daisy lit a cigarette between her lips. Doc made an effort to clamp down on her doctor’s will from telling Daisy that those were bad for her. Everyone had their own vices in this new world.

            Daisy spoke again. “Take care ‘a Kent now, that poor boy has had enough of a rough time recently. Though I gotta admit, he looked quite happy hearing that you were gonna draw his idol. All you gotta do is mention the Silver Shroud and he just lights up like Christmas lights.”

            Nodding along, Doc let Daisy go on, content with letting the (much) older woman lead the conversation and simply listening.

            “…By the way, Fahrenheit wanted me to give you this.”

            Tilting her head, she watched as Daisy went behind her store and pulled out a box. Marching forward, she stood in front of the stand and peered in, gaping in surprise at the sheer amount of medical supplies that lay within. Hell, there were even a couple of random electronic parts that she could use to make some things based on some schematics she’d been collecting. So stunned, she couldn’t help but speak. “What the actual fuck is this?”

            Daisy laughed heartily at her reaction. “That’s not usually what I hear from someone who’s been given a giant box of presents.”

            “I can’t accept this. Please return it to Fahrenheit. Better yet, _you_ should keep this Daisy.”         

            A wide smile swept past the woman’s lips. “No can do honey, you don’t just deny a gift from Mayor Hancock, man’s too stubborn to take it back anyway. Besides, taking it back just to bring it back is just going to piss Fahrenheit off.”

            Another bark of laughter was the reply to the incredibly _frustrated_ look that swept over the petite woman’s face. Doc started pulling some of the stims and rad meds out, pushing them closer to Daisy along with some other electronic scraps. Shaking her head with an affectionate smile, the ghoul pushed them back towards Doc, meeting her scowl head-on.

            “Honey, you can do more good with these than I can.”

            Well it wasn’t like Doc could argue with that logic, but it still didn’t sit right with her, and it showed. Daisy continued, unperturbed.

            “If it really makes you feel that bad, how about you draw me a little portrait, and then we’ll call it even.”

            Doc huffed, hand nearly ripping hair off of her skull, but eventually settled down enough to agree to the (quite unfair in her opinion) transaction. Taking the box with over exaggerated aggressiveness, she dug into one of her pockets and dumped a handful of caps on Daisy’s stand, waddling away before she could force her to take them back. Counting the caps, Daisy watched Doc’s retreat, mirth causing her eyes twinkle like stars.

            Doc was fitting in well in Goodneighbor, Daisy thought. Maybe a little too nice for their town, but definitely adorable enough that people would try to avoid hurting her. The ghoul remembered how Fahrenheit had complained to her about Hancock making her keep an eye out for medical supplies when she made rounds outside of Goodneighbor, only to end up making her deliver to Doc. “I’m not a goddamn courier,” she’d said as she handed Daisy the box.

            Well, it wasn’t like Daisy was a delivery woman either, but it was interesting to watch someone like Doc deal with something like generosity from someone like Hancock. That was a reward in itself, and if Doc ended up giving her caps for something Hancock had already paid her for, well, there were somethings Doc didn’t need to know.

            On the other hand, Doc was cursing up a mental storm as she went to go find as many drifters as possible, because if Hancock was going to give her a giant box of meds, she was going to use them on people who needed them.

 

•••

 

            Doc didn’t know whether to be disappointed or glad that there weren’t a lot of sick drifters. Regardless, she’d offered her services “on sale” (i.e. free) for that day since the “government” had decided to help her out. If she was going to be using government gifts, she was going to use it to give back to the people. She’d made sure to punctuate the fact that it was the generosity of Mayor Hancock that made it all possible. She refused to have any praise go to her for this. If he happened to hear about it, all the better, she decided.

            The list on her wrist had started to smudge a lot, and Doc being as distracted as she was, wasn’t able to cross off a single thing. Even when the man wasn’t here, he’d managed to bother her. She was almost impressed. Almost.

            Annoyance seemed to be inspirational, though. She’d managed to finish a portrait of Daisy, smiling with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, holding a book and a drawing of Hancock holding a canister of jet with a charming grin. In the neatest cursive, she’d written the words, “Annoying Mayor of Goodneighbor,” underlining the word _annoying_ with viciousness. She ignored the minuscule writing in between the words _annoying_ and _mayor_ that may or may not have said “and generous.”

            She’d tried to draw MacCready from when he was at Little Lamplight, but the image of his adult face had replaced her memory of him when he’d been younger and she had to give up, vexed by her odd creations of half-adult, half-child MacCready. She had to rip the page out and slip it under her bed, mortified by it.

             At that point, there’d been a knock at her door, and when Doc had opened it, pencil between her teeth and sketchbook flipped to a new page, Daisy had been leaning at the opening with her brows raised at Doc’s disheveled look.

            “Slow day huh?”

            “The slower the better, means no one’s knocking at death’s door.”

            Daisy let out a bark before motioning to the book clutched in Doc’s hands. “Did you get that commission done for me in all your spare time?”

            Since it was a relatively recent sketch, it didn’t take long for her to find it. She flipped the cover over and presented it to Daisy. Doc couldn’t quite tell for sure, Daisy had a way with concealing her emotions, probably needed to hone that poker face to live for decades, but she looked almost touched. Whenever she drew ghouls, she always tried to put a little more life, a little more love into those. She’d shown Tulip a picture that she’d drawn of her once. The Underworld ghoul had nearly burst into tears at the thought of even being _considered_ as a model. Ever since then, drawing ghouls had become some sort of addiction.

            “Think you drew me a little too pretty.”

            “I draw people as I see them.”

            “And you say you don’t flirt. Heh, wish you’d seen me back when I still had skin in all the right places. That would’ve made a hell of a portrait. You could’ve drawn me like one of those Nuka-Cola girl pin-ups.”

            Doc narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Pin-ups aren’t really my style.”

            Daisy waved her hand, “You know what I mean Doc.”

            Standing her ground, Doc muttered, “I think you like perfectly fine.” She moved to rip the page out of the sketchbook and hand it to the woman in front of her, only to be stopped by uneven hands falling on top of hers. When she looked up, Daisy was looking at her with a light smile.

            “Keep it. Feel like it’s better off with you than me.”

            Reluctantly, Doc’s hands fell away. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from protesting. Fighting emotional verbal battles had never been her strong suit.

            “C’mon Doc, you look like you could use a drink. You definitely look like you could use something to eat. Let’s go to the Third Rail. Better than being around that fool Marowski in Rexford.”

            Sighing and making sure her pistol was still hanging on the holister on her thigh, she locked the door behind her and stood with Daisy outside the door. Her hair was ruffled with and she couldn’t help but frown. How long had it been since her hair had been ruffled like that?

            When Daisy seemed content with how much her hair had been messed with, they started walking together. There’d been no sign that a conversation was needed, and yet, as they walked under the sky that was changing into a blend of reds, blues, and yellows from the setting sun, Daisy, with her arms crossed, looking straight ahead had spoken.

            “Thanks, kid.”

 

•••

 

            When the made it down to the bar, Daisy made a beeline towards Fahrenheit, who’d been drinking with a member of the Neighborhood Watch. Lagging behind by a couple of steps, she was able to watch Daisy touch Fahrenheit’s shoulder with a flirty grin. It made sense that the two might be close, considering they were two women who seemed close to the mayor. They probably had to work with each other quite a bit.

            Doc wanted to apologize to Fahrenheit for having Hancock inconvenience her all for the sake of getting her some medical supplies just so she didn’t need to go out as frequently, but she couldn’t help but think that Fahrenheit would wave it off. Either way, it seemed that Daisy had nabbed her attention first.

            So instead, she sat down next to the ghoul guard from Fahrenheit’s team. Something about him had seemed familiar. According to the way he seemed to straighten in his seat to smile down at her, it seemed that she was familiar to him as well. He pointed toward his wrist and spoke.

            “Thanks for fixing me up smoothskin. It’s been a pleasure to shoot assholes comfortably again.”

            A snap went off in her brain as she remembered fixing up this ghoul’s oddly healed wrist. So that was what it had been.

            “It’s my job, it was no inconvenience,” she replied automatically.

            “Take the thanks with grace pal. If you need a ghoul with a gun, you know where to find me. So long as the boss lady isn’t running me to the ground. Though from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve already got the best of us at your side,” Greg teased.

            Not missing a beat, Doc shot back, “I’m highly doubtful that he’ll come with me again when he has this vault dweller to follow. They seem to be doing much more profitable work for the Commonwealth than anything I could be doing out there.”

            Ears catching a light snort, she moved her head slightly to lock eyes with MacCready. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that someone was around her, who knew about some of her escapades, even if he only knew about a glimpse of it from what had been through the radio. Secondhand knowledge. Fortunately, no one had quite noticed their exchange, MacCready content to sitting back and drinking for now.

            “Did you see that giant Brotherhood ship coming in a few days ago? They think they can just come into the Commonwealth spouting their bullshit? ‘Our intentions are peaceful’ my ass,” Daisy proclaimed.

            Doc tensed at the mention of the Brotherhood. Her fingers curled into fists at her thighs. She’d never been formally inducted into the Brotherhood, but back home, they’d considered her almost one of their own. She’d met little Maxon. He’d had a crush on Sarah Lyons. Sarah Lyons was dead. Elder Lyons was dead. Maxon was Elder Maxon now. Things had changed too much. Her loyalty to the Brotherhood had mainly extended to the Lyons, and she could predict that Elder Maxon was torn between upholding the Lyons’ philosophy and forging his own.

            In the end, this conflict was not her own. She had little information on the Brotherhood nowadays since they stopped contacting her for help after the Enclave was nearly gone in Capital Wasteland. She’d also gone incognito for a while, needing time away from everything. Even if they had needed her, it would have been difficult to find her.

            She had had absolutely nothing on the Institute. All she knew was that they were the “boogeymen,” not that she’d really tried to dig up more. It was strange to be a spectator after having had a hurricane be centered around her and her father.

            A tap on her shoulder brought her back to the conversation at hand. Greg was looking at her with a bit of concern, her long silence most likely making him uncomfortable. He pointed at Daisy who was looking at her pointedly.

            “What do you think about the Brotherhood Doc?”

            That had to be one of the most loaded questions she’d ever heard. It seemed there had been a lot of those ever since coming to Goodneighbor, she thought with a mental sigh.

            “I don’t really know their intentions anymore. If they say they want to bring down this Institute, they probably mean it. At what cost, I can’t say.”

            “Sounds like you’re not just talking out of your ass,” Fahrenheit remarked.

            After ordering something to eat, Doc turned back to the woman who’d allowed her to live in Goodneighbor in the first place. “I’m from the Capital Wasteland. They were a pretty prominent force there. But their leadership has changed, and policies are different now. I can’t tell what they’re intending anymore.”

            Doc took the plate of iguana bits and wondered not for the first time, what the hell she was doing out in the Commonwealth. It wasn’t like she could do anything to change what was going on, not anymore. She wasn’t the eye of the hurricane anymore, someone else was. Doc could only hope that they would do the right thing. Maybe their esteemed mayor, closer to this mystery in the Commonwealth that she’d ever be, could guide this new vault dweller when he could.

            Daisy, still thinking that Doc needed some alcohol in her after seeing her slip into thought again, had slid risen from her seat and placed a shot in her hands, eyeing her expectantly.

            Alcohol and drugs had never been a thing for Doc, especially after her father had scolded the entire lot of them for participating in it underage. Besides, she never understood how a burning sensation in her mouth and throat and impaired mind constituted as fun. But when she told Daisy that she needed to get going, the woman simply told her that the drink would be her exit pass.

            What Doc learned that day, was that there was no getting past a determined Daisy. She grabbed the glass and swallowed the shot as quickly as possible, not wanting to deal with the bitter taste or the burning in her orifices for too long. Still, her face scrunched up to show how displeased she was by its consumption, regardless of how quickly she’d downed the shot.

            Daisy laughed, Greg had grinned, and Fahrenheit looked incredibly disappointed in the fact that their Doctor was such a _child_ when it came to alcohol. She left the bar scraping her tongue between her teeth, the alcohol lingering on its surface.

            Of course, it was fate that she’d meet Hancock like that, tongue out between her teeth, eyes furrowed, and sketchbook still clutched in her hands.

 

•••

 

            The Vaultie had sent him back to Goodneighbor after deciding to go on the Prydwen with Danse. He’d told the Vaultie that those assholes wouldn’t help them, that they were better off going to finding the Railroad to find their son, but they’d wanted to find out what the Brotherhood knew. If they were getting ready to fight the Institute, that meant that they might have an idea of how to get in, they had said.

            So he’d marched back to Goodneighbor in a righteous anger, managing to kill more raiders than he had had traveling with the Vaultie, which was saying something. He rarely went for psycho, but he felt like his mood fit with the chem. He needed to see red, feel a raw, physical manifestation of his rage at being told to go back home, being ignored. It also helped him devastate raiders, so really, it was a win-win.

            When he’d entered Goodneighbor and the Old State House, he’d been glad that Fahrenheit had been out. He would’ve snapped at anyone who tried to talk to him in this state, only to feel like a piece of shit about it later. So he’d laid down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling until he’d felt the fire in his veins fade and the need for a smoke fill them instead.

            So that had been how he’d ended up looking up at the cloudy night sky, smoke slowly drifting upwards, cigarette between his fingers. He’d felt only disappointment toward the Vaultie flood his systems, and let his mind drift with the clouds on his balcony.

            He’d heard the door to the Third Rail below him open and close. He wondered if he should even bother glancing down and seeing who decided to leave so early. Beyond his control, his eyes flickered downward when he heard footsteps and watched as a head of oddly colored hair come into view. It wasn’t difficult to figure out who it was.

            Sufficiently calm now, he wondered if he should call out to her, but then she tipped her head back and he couldn’t help but snicker at the look on her face. Tongue peeking out of the side of her lips and her eyebrows furrowed with her nose all scrunched up. It was truly a sight to behold. Though when she heard his laughter, her tongue slowly retreated back into her mouth and her eyebrows lifted upwards. He watched the transformation of her face back into its relatively stony expression with interest.

            He felt a little lighter after seeing that display. Despite her usual stoicism, there was something about her that felt softer than most people. It might have been her short stature or the way she’d care for people without discrimination , but she brought out some protective instincts, regardless of her fighting capabilities. Maybe it was the doctor in her, but she was comforting to have around, even if her bedside manner was a bit lacking.

            The way she’d put herself at risk still frightened him. Made his instincts scream in protest when this short, stick-like girl ran up to a power armor wearing Gunner head on. Doc had been lucky he’d gotten that fusion core out as quick as he did or else she might have ended up splattered on the walls.

            He’d been _scared_ , and he’d _hated_ it. Especially because mentally, he knew he shouldn’t let himself get close to people who were more likely to die.

            But that had been then. He had new problems he wanted to forget about. He'd figure out how to deal with the problem of her later. The half-hearted promise she gave him still nagged at him like a splinter in his hand. Unfortunately, he was still fucking pissed, so he wouldn't be doing anything good in this mindset. Although, bickering with the Doc might help him get out of his funk. Though she wasn’t much for long conversations, the little he got out of her was usually entertaining enough.

            “How you doin’ Doc? Leavin’ a bit early, aren’t you?”

            “Not much of a drinker. Thank you for the supplies by the way, but it really wasn’t necessary of you.”

             There was an underlying vehemence there, hiding beneath her words. Hancock wished he’d been there when she’d gotten her little care package. When he heard how little she’d charge her patients, barely making a profit, he knew that she’d try to push it back to him. Really, he wondered if she’d have marched to his office with that box tight in her hands.

            “Didn’t like the gift? Haven’t been around in a while, but I figure that you probably put it to good use.”

            “Well yes, to spite you.”

            Hancock had to take out his cigarette to prevent it from falling to the ground as an unexpected bark tore itself out of his throat with a puff of smoke. He looked down then, wanting to see the expression that paired with those words. He was not displeased. Her eyes were narrowed in distasted and the corners of her lips were tipped downward.

            “Well aren’t you honest today,” he got out through his snickers. “So sister, how’d you go about trying to piss me off by using _medicine_ for the greater good?”

            “Don’t laugh, I’m trying to be vindictive. You’re not making this easy.” She watched as Hancock placed a hand near his mouth, trying to smother his grin. It wasn’t working. Doc looked at the heavens for assistance. Nothing seemed to be happening. Pity. It seemed like God wasn’t on her side. Not that she was really shocked by that. “I was helping out the drifters for free with what you gave me. I’m sure you’ll be furious to know that the drifters rooming with you are all relatively healthy and treated,” Doc remarked sarcastically.

            Funny how he’d been seeing red just a while ago, and when she’d tried to make him “angry,” she’d only managed to make him smile.

            At first, he’d asked Fahrenheit to keep a closer eye out for medical supplies so Doc wouldn’t have to go out as often, but along the way, he realized that if he got her more medical supplies, not only would be less worried about finding someone to go with her but that she’d probably do more for the town. He wasn’t disappointed.

            “…Anyways, I’ll come up now. Need to make sure our Mayor isn’t dying on us after his amazing adventures.”

            Hancock’s eyebrows nearly kissed his hat at her declaration. “No need Doc, I’m fine. Don’t need any patchwork.”

            His eyes followed her as she moved toward the door to the Old State House. “Humor me. Don’t have much to do right now, and Fahrenheit will kill me if you suddenly fall dead. She’s probably already wondering why she decided to let me live here.”

            With a final sigh, Hancock put out his cigarette and moved to go inside.


	7. It's a bird, it's a plane...

            Hancock listened to his guards greet the girl with some measure of amusement. It hadn’t been too long since she’d come to Goodneighbor, and yet she’d gotten popular quickly. He supposed that being a new doctor to a near doctorless town would do that.

            It wasn’t a surprise that the guards took advantage of her now that she was here. She’d probably patched up half of them already. Some of them liked to wander with Fahrenheit on her raids and would end up quite a bit more banged up compared to when they first went out.

            With a tired sigh, he’d plopped down on the red couch, exhausted from arguing, from the psycho, from rolling the word “freak” over and over in his mind.

            He was even too tired to think about punching Danse’s chiseled face in.

            Usually, he’d been able to brush everything off. His self-deprecating humor was often key to relaxing people who were new to ghouls. Hell, he knew he wasn’t the prettiest guy on the block anymore, even though he’d been quite the lady’s man back in the day. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be called a freak so vehemently and too his face. It seemed he’d really gone soft by being in Goodneighbor, where half the residents were ghouls anyway, and the other half just didn’t care. At least if someone was out to kill him, it wasn’t because his face was scarred and torn beyond belief.

            When Hancock managed to finally keep his exhaustion at bay enough to open his eyes, he was greeted to intriguingly colorful eyes hidden behind some thick lenses.

            “If you end up falling asleep, it’s easier for me to check up on you. Fixing your leg was one of the fastest jobs I’ve done in a while.”

            “Falling asleep when a guest’s around? Might be a lot of things, but I ain’t rude.”

            “Not sleeping when you’re tired is what’s rude, at least to me as a doctor.” Doc grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse and looking towards her Pip-boy when she finally located it.

            “Gettin’ handsy with me already Doc? I knew I was a charmer but didn’t think _you’d_ put the moves on me.”

            When a minute passed, she released his wrist before sternly giving him a once over, looking for any abnormalities in his posture or his clothes. She had to look quite hard, he’d chosen quite a good jacket for concealing any blood stains. A fleeting thought wondered about his laundry, but she quickly waved that thought out of her mind when her less than white lab coat was taken into consideration.

            “No pains or aches you want to tell me about?”

            Hancock’s hands went up in a show of good will. “I told ya’ before sister, there ain’t no problems here.”

            Doc looked like she didn’t believe him, which he could understand, he supposed. Rarely did anyone come back from fighting out there without a couple of real bad wounds. Then again, he’d hit a mess of a combination of chems on his way back, and though they could have some horrible withdrawal symptoms, he was a ghoul. One of the best things about being one was that withdrawal usually didn’t hit as hard, or at least more slowly.

            She sighed before looking at him sharply. “Looks like those chems in your system did their job. Your pulse is quite quick, so I’m assuming you took some sort of stimulant like buffout or psycho.”

            Hancock grinned. “If you want some, you can help yourself to Fahrenheit’s over there,” he waved his hand toward a nightstand full of mentats, jet, and many needles.

            A withering look was sent his way. “I don’t need Fahrenheit to kill me just yet. Besides, I’m sure you can already tell that those aren’t my style.”

            Of course he could tell. Beyond her hair, she looked as straight-laced as they come. Not that he’d ever judge anyone based on appearances, but from what he’d heard from Daisy, the woman would only ever order Nuka-Cola at the bar and being a doctor, she probably didn’t want to end up like the addicts she had to cure. Not that he was saying doctors couldn’t enjoy chems, but if the girl refused to drink, it was extremely unlikely that she’d be shooting up on anything else.

            “I heard. Got a real sweet tooth on ya’, don’t you?”

            It was something to watch Doc try to process what the hell he even meant, backtracking through the conversation in her head. He resisted snickering when the realization flickered past her eyes before they narrowed.

            “At least Nuka-Cola won’t end up giving me a heart attack,” she pointed out. “Besides, I’m making up for all that time we only got optimally nutritional food when we were in the vault.”

            Hancock hummed because that’s right, she’d mentioned that she was a vaultie back in the day. A vaultie in the Capital Wasteland, she’d said. He wondered what kind of sick experiment she’d been put through, or if it had been similar to Vault 81, where they still managed to thrive in the vault environment, with secrets buried underneath.

            Abruptly, Doc maneuvered herself away from him and rose to a stand, brushing any dust away from her jacket and making sure that she had everything with her.

            “I concede defeat I suppose. Looks like most of your wounds are minor enough that you can function without me having to take care of them. Besides your chems, I suppose you had some stims with you as well. At the very least, I hope your traveling partner is taking care of you.”

            With interest, Doc watched Hancock’s face darken. Well, she supposed that answered the last question. Companions were a tricky business. If your goals were even slightly misaligned, you could be in for a bad time. She watched as her mayor tried to force a smile that looked more like a grimace.

            “I can take care of myself, unlike _some_ people I know.”

            Doc chose to ignore his hidden meaning. He’d probably lock her up for being insane if she tried to explain that her plan was on the low end of some of the riskier things she had done.

            Placing her hand on his shoulder, she explained, “I only ask out of concern Mayor Hancock.”

            Apparently, this had been the wrong thing to say, as his face darkened with anger, and he laughed bitterly. “Sister, all I am to you is the mayor. You care about Mayor Hancock, not _John_ Hancock.”

            “Your name is John?” Doc wondered aloud.

            “Think you’ve missed the point Doc.”

            He watched her lips quirk up slightly in contrast to his angry scowl. “You act like you’re not both a person and a mayor. Regardless, I think you’re a fine mayor and a fine person. You genuinely care about people. It’s hard to find that out there.”

            Doc wasn’t one to mince her words. She meant what she said. Hancock prided himself on being able to read people. It was what helped him survive. She wasn’t lying. Shame at snapping at her choked his throat.

            He watched her walk over to the doorway, hands stuffed in her pockets, Pip-boy glowing a bright green beneath the fabric of her coat. Hancock couldn’t help but avoid her eyes. Then the sound of footsteps stopped, and her feet stilled, hand holding on to the edge of the door.

            “Well, I suppose a name for a name is only fair. So, John, my name is Jasper.”

            He watched her body disappear behind the door for a moment before she peeked her head out at him again.

            “You’re probably not going to listen to me, but I suggest you take a break from your break.” Her eyes went heavenward, as if she was consulting some deities on what “medical” advice she should give him. “Maybe get some more bedrest and food as well,” she paused, fingers pressed against her bottom lip. “I think that should be it for my recommendations.”  

            Her head finally disappeared, and Hancock waited until all of the goodbyes and comments from his Neighborhood Watch disappeared to let his shoulders drop away from his ears.

            In the end, he tried to settle down enough to get some sleep, try to forget whatever had happened in the room recently, much like he had tried to forget so many things in his life. Unfortunately for him, Doc’s name kept swinging around his head with no place to go. He hadn’t needed to know her name, he didn’t get why she felt they had to trade them like caps and guns.

            Why was he even thinking about this so much, it was a goddamn _name_. It didn’t mean that much. Why wouldn’t his brain let him _rest_ for once and relieve him of his self-loathing thoughts.

            What Hancock hadn’t realized, was that he wasn’t rolling the word “freak” in his head around anymore, but “Jasper” instead. If he’d realized this though, it would be hard to say whether he’d be satisfied or not.

 

•••

 

            “Well, well, well, look who’s outside today?” Daisy chortled.

            Kent’s hands tightened over Doc’s tunnel snake jacket, glad that he’d finished sewing everything in already, or he might have jabbed himself with a needle at Daisy’s taunting. He wasn’t known for leaving the Memory Den during the day, or anytime for that matter.

            He looked over to his partner sitting with him on the bench, Silver Shroud merchandise spread out around her. She was intensely sketching out different characters from the old radio show, and she’d wanted him around to make sure she was doing it right. He’d told her that they could do it at the Memory Den, but she’d insisted that they not.

            So they’d ended up in front of Daisy’s store.

            At first, she’d drawn exact copies, wanting to have the basics down. Then he noticed her drawings become more…imaginative. He’d been halfway through reinforcing her jacket when he noticed that there was a man who resembled the Mistress of Mystery next to a woman who donned the Silver Shroud costume. Captain Cosmos would appear in the corners of her sketches. Jangles had been a monkey, a yao guai, and even a deathclaw. Thankfully (or maybe not, her renditions were if nothing else, entertaining), she seemed to leave the Mechanist alone for the most part, except for a few small tweaks.

            “Well if it isn’t my good man Kent! Surprising to see you out here under the sun!”

            “Don’t tease the man Hancock, that’s my job,” Daisy exclaimed.

            Hancock had been making his rounds through town, making sure no one was causing too much trouble. Not to mention making sure to keep an ear out and catch any information that could be useful to know. He turned a corner and had started to make out Kent’s distinctive look. He was glad the timid man was at least leaving the Memory Den. Too much time in there didn’t seem healthy. Sure, he’d been there, almost everyone in Goodneighbor had. But everyone in town knew about Kent’s addiction for reliving old memories.

            In retrospect, Hancock should have realized that Kent probably didn’t come out of his own free will.

            Despite feeling his feet falter at the sight of Doc, he realized he’d already made his presence known. No stopping it now. He’d been pissed that night, but that was no reason to be an asshole when she was just trying to make sure he hadn’t got his dumbass person hurt.

            When he saw her intensely focused on her work, he wasn’t sure if he felt relieved that she hadn’t noticed his presence or annoyed. Was he really so damn forgettable? He had his loud charming personality on top of a loud charming outfit. She should have noticed him by now.

            “Don’t mind Doc, John. She’s been like that for of the day. Only stops to ask Kent over there if she’s doin’ okay. Lucky guy,” she winked.

            “D-Doc’s just helpin’ me with some Silver Shroud stuff! We t-thought about making a comic together, she draws it out and I remember the stories.”

            “Better watch out Mayor Hancock, Goodneighbor might actually be getting a bit respectable if Doc can sit here and take commissions.”

            “Please. Fred Allen nearly fell on top of me after trying to combine skeeto spit, overdrive, _and_ ultra jet.”

            The three ghouls turned to stare at the girl who’d been silent for most of the conversation. Doc hadn’t even looked up from her sketchbook to comment, having been content letting the conversation flow around her.

            “…Sounds like a good time to me,” Hancock murmured.

            Hancock was taken aback by the brief intensity of her eyes. Usually, her eyes were more subdued and distant. Suddenly, they were sharp and piercing, full of focus and intent. He hadn’t noticed when he fought with her at the medical center, probably because her eyes never directed themselves at him.

            “If you happen to conduct a similar experiment to Mr. Allen, don’t bother falling at my door.”

            Shuffling in his seat, Kent spoke up. “Doc, you think you have a handle on Shroud yet?”

            Doc forced her eyes to soften before turning toward Kent, the corners of her lips quirking up for a split second. The pencil in her hand had paused on top of her sketchbook for a while as she bantered with the ghouls.

            “I think I have an idea that I’d like you to see. Though you may not like it. It’s a little unfaithful to the original.”

            Kent looked surprised. “Y-you drew him pretty similarly to the original. Well, except for that one where Shroud was a lady. Are you going to go with that?”

            Instead of offering up words, Doc simply handed over her sketchbook to Kent. Daisy and Hancock watched with interest as Kent’s eyes widened and whipped over toward his partner beside him.

            “Maybe you should stick to fixin’ people up Doc, seems like Kent’s gone into shock over there,” Daisy smiled.

            “N-no! It’s really good… It’s just…” Kent stared intently at the sketch. “A ghoul? Why?”

            “Woah, really, ya’ made him a ghoul Doc? Lemme have a look at him.” Hancock maneuvered his way from Daisy’s Discounts to peer over Kent’s shoulder.

            Really, Hancock didn’t know what to expect when he snuck a glance, but it certainly wasn’t a dedicatedly realistic ghoul, shredded by radiation. Maybe he expected something less severe, less ripped skin. What he definitely didn’t expect was the way the newly ghoulified Silver Shroud grinned at him brightly, embodying so much hope, courage, and _pride_.

            Did he ever look like that, Hancock wondered? Was he ever able to smile like he loved being a ghoul? He tried, and some days, he could even say that he didn’t care with a surprising honesty, but every other day was difficult when he’d been filled with self-loathing since he was human. Jokes were all he could usually manage.

            After hearing Kent explain that the Silver Shroud was drawn as a ghoul, Daisy had some insight into what the other two were experiencing. Doc had a way of drawing their kind with humanity. Something people in the Wasteland debated today. Were ghouls even human anymore, they wondered. The Brotherhood certainly didn’t consider them human anymore. What did he even think about himself?

            “I wanted to take some artistic liberties. Besides, this is 2287. Why not?”

            Kent looked like he didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t even know what he thought about it really. Some part of him loved the idea that his hero was like him, while another part of him screamed that this was wrong, that his hero had to be perfect and he was anything but.

            “I think the Shroud’s lookin’ good. Gotta admit Doc, that’s a handsome ass mug right there. Would you be interested in drawing some pin-ups?”

            “M-mayor!”

            “C’mon Kent, don’t tell me people didn’t think about it back in the day. Wouldn’t be surprised to hear that people speculated ‘bout some of his…measurements. If ya’ know what I mean.”

            Doc looked like she swallowed something sour and Kent was protesting on behalf of Silver Shroud fans of 2077 and before. Daisy looked incredibly amused at the thought of people trying to calculate Silver Shroud’s dick size.

            “Think it would be a good thing, to have a Shroud from the Commonwealth. We have to move on at some point Kent,” Daisy gently contributed.

            For a moment, Kent went very quiet. The two pre-war ghouls watched the world change around them, remembering a time where the trees bloomed with green and the earth wasn’t scorched. A time where rads weren’t a part of storms and food and daily life. Even the vault seemed so good to Doc sometimes. She couldn’t imagine living in a world that was even better than vaults.

             Honestly, it’d been a bit of a spur of the moment idea with little consideration given. But it seemed like something that just _fit_. The more she’d looked at scarred Shroud, she’d been taken. Despite Kent’s original intention of simply remaking the comics, she wanted to do more. There was no way something so pre-war would travel. They needed something more relatable, more post-apocalyptia, as Three Dog might say.

            But if Kent was against it, she’d draw the Silver Shroud as he was. This was his memory and love. She didn’t want to tarnish it with any bad memories.

            “I-I’ll think about it. If we’re going to make him a g-ghoul, I’m going to have to revise some of the stories. I-If you don’t mind, can I take this?”

            “Of course. I’m glad you’re considering it. You know where to find me when you’re ready,” Doc replied calmly.

            Kent returned Doc’s newly reinforced greaser jacket which Doc promptly put on. Kent stood first, tipping his hat to Daisy and Hancock before going on his way back to the Memory Den. It took a bit longer for Doc to bundle up all the papers she had strewn about on the bench. When she’d finally finished, she gave a curt nod to Daisy and Hancock, but as she was about to turn, she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.

            “Ya’ got some time to talk Doc?”

            Doc tilted her head and caught view of a red sleeve. Not many people were willing to wear such a bright color.

            “So long as nobody’s dying,” she remarked.

 

•••

 

            It didn’t take long for Hancock to lead Doc to the VIP room in the Third Rail. He’d gone out to order some drinks from Charlie while she was left to examine the pink glow of the room. It was flamboyant, much like their mayor, so she supposed it was fitting.

            When Hancock returned, he held a beer in one hand while her eyes widened at the sight of what was in his other hand.

            Glowing brightly with a light blue tinge was a lovely looking glass bottle of Nuka Quantum. Hancock watched her reaction with curiosity. It was interesting to watch Doc’s expression turn from forced stoicism to complete awe. He’d gotten Charlie to stash away a couple of bottles of Quantum for some of the more special customers. He was glad he did because Doc’s eyes _glittered_ at the sight of the glowing bottle dangling in his hand.

            When he put the bottle in arm’s reach, she reverently grasped it with both hands, looking much like a child in that moment. She rolled the bottle in her hands, thumbing the label. It was almost uncomfortably intimate of her.

            “Damn Doc, it’s like you’re holding the secrets of the world in your hands.”

            “Nuka Cherries are rare enough to find. You’re handing me a Nuka Quantum for free?”

            Hancock took a seat on one of the sofas and leaned back, taking a swig of his beer. “Consider it an apology for the night I came back. I was being an ass. It’s on me.”

            He watched Doc crack open the radiated soda and pocket the bottle cap. Short, dainty sips of the soda went past her lips. A tiny, delighted smile appeared on her face. Hancock started to realize that he may have underestimated her addiction.

            “I wasn’t bothered at all. I’ve never had a good bedside matter, so it’s something I’ve heard quite often. It’s a valid complaint. I was the one who barged in even though you said it was okay.”

            Well that just made him feel even shittier. She’d only wanted to make sure he was okay, and he basically told her that she was only helping him out of some faked concern.

            Seeing that Hancock was about to protest her forgiveness, she raised her hand. “You’ve already given me an apology, so I consider this water under the bridge. The Quantum is also well welcomed, but it wasn’t necessary. Besides, I haven’t apologized for concerning you during our escapade to Mass Bay.”

            “Shit Doc, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. I can’t stand back and watch people die, ain’t the way I work.”

            A hum left her lips. “I suppose we’re both idiots who can’t believe that someone would want us alive.”

            “Hey, I wasn’t the one who threw themselves in front of a goddamn power armor wearing Gunner Commander.”

            “I promised to avoid pulling any more risky stunts, at least while you’re around.”

            “That doesn’t really make me feel much better sister.”

            Doc’s hand waved nonchalantly in the air, waving off his protest. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?”

            “Glad you’re so _obviously_ enjoying my company.”

            A shrug was her reply. “I’m still here because of the Quantum.”

            “Please tell me you won’t just follow anyone because they only give you a goddamn _Quantum_.”

            “Only good people give others a Quantum for free.”

            “That didn’t answer my question.”

            “You didn’t answer mine,” Doc smirked behind her drink.

            “You’re fucking exasperating; you know that Doc? Fine. Why’d you make Shroud a ghoul? Don’t feed me some bullshit about it coming to you in a dream or something ‘cause I can tell you ain’t hittin’ any chems.”

            There were never any easy questions when it came to him. Forcing her to think about her motives for things. Truly an unpleasant man, but still somehow fun to be around. At least he catered to her sweet tooth. She owed him an answer for the high-quality drink he’d gotten her.

            “I’d already been thinking about adapting the Shroud to the Wasteland and Commonwealth. I don’t like the idea of rehashing old stories when I could be making new ones that hopefully have some important lessons for people who might want to read. I suppose hearing that the Wasteland Survival Guide is still helping people makes me want to continue down that track.”

            Hancock pensively scratched at the label of his beer. “Still doesn’t explain why you chose a ghoul. Hell, you could’ve made the guy a Frankenstein or hell, a talking deathclaw.”

            “There was a radio channel in the Capital Wasteland. It was run by a guy named Three Dog; our own Travis. There was a show that would play. It was about a guy named Herbert Dashwood and his ‘ghoul manservant’ Argyle. The thing was, Argyle was the one who was the more heroic one.”

            “So you wondered about making the ghoul the hero for real.”

            A sharp nod came from Doc. “Exactly.”

            Hancock stared at this woman who he’d only expected to be a doctor. But different expressions of her were starting to appear, making him realize that he’d been looking at her in one dimension, when she was actually much more complex than that. She liked sugar, she supported ghouls, and she had laser focus when it came to drawing. Probably normal things back in the day, mundane things. It wasn’t often today that people got to learn mundane things about each other though. There wasn’t enough trust for that. It’d taken forever for Fahrenheit to learn that he’d lost one of his toes and that she could make raspberry mentats.

            It shouldn’t have been surprising that he was getting to know one of his citizens better. That’s what happened when you were mayor. Maybe what was really surprising him was the fact that she was still there.

            Goodneighbor was a town for the desperate and the lost. Doc didn’t seem like either. She seemed like the sort of gal who had other places she was wanted. At the very least, he could see her being able to get into more “respectable” places like Diamond City. No drugs, good fighter but not easily provoked, and completely human. Yeah, they’d take her in quick.

            Yet she sat on a seat across from him, talking about ghouls in comic books.

            “No lie, ghouls need a better rep around. If you and Kent can even get a couple of people to be more tolerable, that’d be some accomplishment. I respect that. You gotta know that there are gonna be people who are gonna see a ghoul on the cover and put the thing down though. Hell, they might even burn it.”

            “Of course. But for every person that burns it, I’m sure there’ll be another person who reads the edition and waits for more. There’s no way to please anyone.”

            She was totally convinced that this was the way to go about it. There wasn’t anything that was going to make her budge unless Kent told her straight that they should stick to the original.

            “Thought you were only good with stims Doc, didn’t expect this from you at all when I first met you.”

            “Then you have a lot more to learn about me, Mayor Hancock. Though I expect that I have more to learn about you as well.”

            How long had it been since someone had wanted to just find out more about him without any strings attached? It was a feeling so old that it was novel now. It was humbling, somehow.

            “Maybe if you’re a good girl,” Hancock leered.

            Hazel eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “So now that you’ve asked your question, what about mine?”

            Curiosity got the ghoul. “Shoot.”

            “You’re still calling me Doc.” 

            “Thought you were smart Doc, that’s not a question.” Doc narrowed her eyes. Hancock shuffled awkwardly. “Damn it Doc, I don’t know, you’re already Doc to me, ya feel?” He paused, realizing something. “You don’t mind that, right? That I call you Doc?”

            “Of course not. Frankly, I prefer it to my actual name a decent amount of the time. I was simply curious.”

            The mayor of Goodneighbor slumped down in his seat. “Well, it’s not like you’re calling me John either.”

            “Do you want me to?” She asked, pointing her bottle towards him.

            “Hell Doc, you can call me whatever you want.”

            For the rest of the night, the two bickered lightly back and forth in the VIP room. Hancock enjoyed drawing her back into conversations, preventing her from leaving and thoroughly annoying her. He kept shoving Nuka-Cola bottles in her hands, more than even she could handle.

            It had to have been one of the most mundane things that he’d done since coming to Goodneighbor. There was no sex, no underhanded political talk, and the sound of bullets was strangely absent for once. Hell, only one was them was consuming even the slightest amount of alcohol. Yet it was strangely pleasant to just talk about things that were barely relevant or substantial.

            He’d been itching to leave Goodneighbor for the longest time. The responsibility, the feeling that he could be doing _more_ , it’d been getting under his skin.

            But maybe Doc was right. Maybe he needed to get away from trying to save the Commonwealth. It was a big task after all. It was why he’d decided to go out with the Vaultie. It was probably why they’d turned to the Brotherhood.

            He got it. He fucking hated it, but he got it.

            He needed a change of pace. Looking over at Doc, her eyes watering as her hand covered her wide yawn, he wondered if she was the one who was going to change things up.


End file.
